All In All
by XWaltzforVenusX
Summary: All in all, life hadn't been so bad. RyanTaylor, AU season 3.
1. Prom

_Ok, two one-shots in one day? I'm getting distracted from my stories again. Although, blame this one on ORy. See, she told me if I posted this, she'd post the last chapter of 'This Is School'. So… I'm waiting… _

_Oh, btw, this is rated M for a reason, cause it's dirty._

…

All in all, prom hadn't been so bad.

Well, at least until Summer fell of that big ship thing, that's when it kinda went downhill, but up until then had been nice. Hanging with Theresa was fun, and watching Seth pine after Summer and get ordered around by Anna? Always a good time. Plus, that Korean guy Summer was with was hilarious. He'd thought it was going to be worse than it was – what with Volchok along for the ride, but the guy seemed to be behaving. Well, behaving in the sense that he wasn't doing coke in public or tearing the place apart.

And then there was the unexpected surprise of _Taylor Townsend_ looking hot as hell. Red suited her very well. Not that he'd ever tell anyone this, but he'd probably be visiting _that_ memory later tonight – because there was no way he and Theresa were starting anything up. And he hadn't been laid in a couple weeks – not since that Chloe chick. And seriously? Instead of cooling off his teenage hormones, that whole thing had reminded him how relaxing a no-strings-attached fuck could be. If she wasn't such an uptight Newpsie – and if he didn't have this pesky conscience – he'd actually consider offering Taylor a nice ride tonight after prom.

The sound of Theresa's cell phone snapped him out of his little reverie, and she murmured something about it being 'that guy' she was telling him about. He gave her a smile, and she walked out of the noisy gym – where everyone was still discussing their prom queen's fall. He watched her go, hoping the guy – whoever he was – didn't hurt her. She deserved someone.

"Hey, have you seen Kevin?" Marissa came up behind him, touching his arm gently. He shook his head, feeling a little guilty – he should've been watching that guy like a hawk, but he hadn't. Instead he'd been too busy actually being a teenager. His ex sighed, "I'll go find him."

Two – count it, two – ex-girlfriends just walked away from him to go talk to other guys. Not that he wanted to start things up again with either of them – _way_ too much history with Theresa, and every time he and Marissa got back together it was like a train waiting to crash. He just wished Marissa had picked someone better to go having sex with – someone a little less volatile. He truly wanted her to be happy, and that gave him a start. He wanted Marissa to be happy, and it wasn't going to be with him. Looking back, they'd never been really happy. He'd even told Sadie as much. Well, maybe not those exact words, but he'd told the girl he was happier with her than with anyone else he'd been with. And it was true.

Damn, he wished Sadie hadn't left. Yeah, it wouldn't have worked out, but he seriously could have used the extra months of regular sex. Oh well, looks like it was just him, the internet, and his trusty right hand until he could find some hot Berkeley ass.

"Ryan…" Theresa came up behind him, looking apologetic. "Look, that guy, he's going to a work party, and he invited me…"

Ryan smiled at the sincere guilt and hope in her eyes. "Hey, it's no problem," he took her arm, leading her out of the gym. "I'll probably end up spending the entire after-party consoling Seth. I mean, the guy watched his drunk ex kiss some Korean pop-star then fall off a boat…"

"Ship," Theresa corrected him with a smile.

"Ryan, oh my God," Taylor Townsend's hassled voice stopped them, and the girl planted herself in front of the two. "We need to get Summer out of here, so we're all headed to the limo now. Are you guys coming?"

"Ryan is, I'm headed out," Theresa smiled at him, and he nodded, locking eyes with her. He really wanted her to be happy.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Taylor _sounded_ sorry, but you could never really tell with her, so Ryan wasn't sure he bought it. "Would you like me to call you a cab? Or we could have the limo drop you off somewhere before we go…"

"That's ok, really," Theresa laughed, shooting him a look that asked why he hung out with insane people. He gave a little shrug – he really had no idea. "Mark's picking me up."

Ryan kind of wished Theresa hadn't said that, because Taylor raised an eyebrow at him questioningly. He shrugged at her – his usual response to most things. Surprisingly, the girl seemed to take his non-verbal answer without question, and started rambling about gathering everyone for the limo ride. "Where's Marissa and that angry-looking guy?"

"Uhh, she went to find him a little while ago…" he looked over his shoulder to the exit where Marissa had disappeared. Theresa's cell phone rang.

"He's here." She turned to him, hugging him tightly before pulling away and placing her hands on his shoulders. "Goodbye, Ryan. This was fun."

"Yeah. Good luck at the party," he squeezed her hand one last time before she left.

"Ok, well, Seth, Summer, Sung-Ho, Jung-Nom, and Anna are in the limo, so we need to find Marissa and Mr. Stable before Summer vomits on the upholstery and I don't get my deposit back." She brushed past him, towards the exit Marissa had taken, and Ryan shook his head in amusement and followed. Already he liked Taylor Townsend a little more just because of her obvious distaste for Volchok. Not that he was surprised, really. Uptight chicks didn't normally dig guys who drank heavily and didn't even wear ties to prom. Plus, when she walked, her ass swayed quite nicely.

So he followed her into the hall, "Volchok probably went outside to smoke something." Taylor nodded and headed in that direction. They got to a balcony where Volchok had obviously been – if the end of a used joint on the ground was any indication. They searched around for another five minutes before giving up. They'd probably ditched the party to go have an exclusive one at his place. He really hoped for Marissa's sake that the guy didn't have an STD or something.

"Yes, well," Taylor was saying, stalking out towards the parking lot, "how considerate of them to just up and leave." You know, she was actually quite funny when she was saying the same things he was thinking.

* * *

"Well this is great," Taylor flopped onto the couch next to him, looking for all the world like she might kill someone.

"Taylor," he greeted. He'd been sitting on the couch watching the party for the last hour. Seth, Anna, and Summer were off somewhere, so he was pretty much alone here.

"If I didn't feel so bad for her, I'd really be angry at Summer right now," she continued on, and he wasn't sure she even realized she was talking – or that she was talking to him. "Jung-Nom wanted to go home because his date was smashed, and Sung-Ho went too. So now I'm dateless at my own after-party, where people are tearing up the place and basically acting like primates." She let out a soft whine as some kid hurtled past, knocking over a table and taking out a couple chairs too. "I'm _so_ not getting my deposit back. And because Summer hurled in the limo, that's gone too. My mother's going to _freak_." Ryan laughed softly, and Taylor shot him a glare, settling back into the couch with a huff. "Well, I'm glad you think it's funny. Have you _met_ my mother?"

Ryan winced – he remembered running into the woman once. She wasn't pleasant. Topic change time. "So how _is_ Summer. I haven't seen her since we got here."

Taylor sighed, looking slightly happier. "She was puking her guts out in one of the back rooms. Anna left, did you see? It's a shame really, I liked the girl. She was quite practical and we had a very nice discussion about Yakuza. But I think Seth and Summer made up, cause he was smiling, and she was smiling – until she started throwing up again, of course."

"Of course."

They settled into silence, and Taylor winced, putting a hand to her forehead as a crash sounded from across the club. He watched her shoulders square, and she sucked in a resolute breath, turning to him almost forcefully. "So how are you, Ryan Atwood?"

"I'm good."

She seemed only slightly annoyed at his mono-syllabic response, and he guessed it might have more to do with her wanting a distraction than the belief that he should talk more. Which was nice, actually, because he hated when people tried to get him to 'open up'. Sometimes a situation just called for a one or two word answer.

"Then I can be good too," she nodded to herself, and he furrowed his brow at her. "Well, if you can be dateless on prom night and still be 'good', so can I."

"Yeah, thanks for reminding me." He wasn't all that upset – at least not at Theresa. She had her own life, and he had his. She'd done him a favor, going to prom with him, and there was no way he could be angry at her for going off and doing her own thing after.

"Sorry." She actually sounded sorry, and he started to think that maybe Taylor Townsend _did_ care about other people. He remembered Seth telling him something about Summer setting up a kissing booth with an entire flower-shop's worth of balloons to try and win him back. That didn't sound like a Summer plan – it sounded like a Taylor Townsend one. Maybe the girl did have human feelings. "It's just… not how I pictured this night going."

"Tell me about it."

"I mean, its prom! You're supposed to go and have fun with someone you love – or at least care a lot about. Not some random restaurant worker who was nice to you and helped you cater a party on short notice." She let out a sigh, and he could tell she was in her own world – rambling to someone who would listen. "Not that Sung-Ho isn't nice, and he's a good kisser, but it's not quite the night I imagined." It hadn't been his either. Not that he'd ever really thought of prom, but from all the movies and TV shows, it wasn't supposed to be like this. "And now people are ruining my chances of getting my deposit back, I was laughed at on stage _again_, and I don't even get to have angry, frustrated sex to calm me down."

It took about four and a half seconds for the last part of her ramble to actually be processed in his head. "What?"

"Well," she continued like it was no big deal, "obviously I thought Sung-Ho and I would have some nice sweaty fun time tonight, but now I don't even get _that_."

He really shouldn't be surprised. This was the girl who was having her way with the Dean of Discipline, so was it any real shocker that she'd go for a Korean waiter? What surprised him, though, was her casual tone, like what she was saying was no big deal. Most girls in Newport talked about sex like it was something dirty and wrong – even if they got off on that sort of thing. Or they were like Summer and Marissa – who did it, but had trouble talking about it in public. Or even in private, because he could remember times when there would be awkward, fumbling conversations with Marissa about _should they?_ or _is it too soon_?

"That sucks," he finally managed to get out. "If it makes you feel any better, I had to go through the whole night knowing I wasn't getting laid." She looked at him, startled, as if she just remembered who she was talking to – and that she was actually talking to someone at all. Then her nose wrinkled, and she let out a short, almost dorkish laugh, complete with a little snort.

"Thank you, Ryan!" she said brightly, laying her hand on his knee and giving it a little squeeze. "That _does_ make me feel better!"

"Well, glad I could help," he grinned at her, shaking his head a little. You know, when she wasn't going full force on some project or plan, she was actually pleasant to talk to. And there was something about her bluntness, and the almost innocent laugh, that made him relax. Or maybe it was just the warm hand still resting on his leg, and the red neckline of her dress that scooped low.

"So what are we going to do, Ryan Atwood," she continued on brightly, trying to look serious, "about our pathetic lives?"

"Well," he let out a fake heavy sigh, smiling as he lent back against the couch cushions, "I already have my plan." She shot him a puzzled look, and he shrugged. "I was going to get reacquainted with my hand tonight," he held up his right hand, smiling at it affectionately. Instead of looking offended, or disgusted, she broke into short bursting laughter, scrunching up her face, eyes showing nothing but pure amusement. She was definitely a refreshing break from other girls. Shame it had to end, but he _did_ have a standing appointment with his hand, and he wasn't one to break a date. "I guess I should go, though. Seth's with Summer, and I really have no reason to stay."

"Oh, yeah," she withdrew her hand from his leg, smiling and standing up when he did. "It was nice talking to you, Ryan."

"You know what? It was nice talking to you too," he gave her a smile that he hoped was sincere, because he wanted her to know that he _did_ enjoy talking to her. She deserved some bit of niceness from someone tonight. Her entire face lit up, and she threw her arms around him impulsively, letting out a breathless _thank you_ as she tried to squeeze all the oxygen out of him.

Maybe his body was way ahead of his brain, and thought he was at home, alone, in the pool house, or maybe it was just the fact that she was small and warm and pressing up against him, but he felt himself harden beneath her. He brought his hands swiftly to her waist, pulling her away before she could feel it, but the look in her eyes when they separated showed it was too late. Her eyes were wide and a little confused at first, but then her face softened and she looked like she was thinking hard about something.

"Did you want to take the limo?" she asked softly, grabbing her purse, and walking out of the private room they were in. He followed, unsure of what the hell was going on. He wasn't sure if she was trying to get rid of him or what, but her ass looked fantastic as she walked in front of him, so he followed her out – memorizing the movement as best he could for tonight's session with his hand.

They found the limo in the parking lot – the driver had mysteriously disappeared, although Taylor reassured him the man was probably out smoking and she could find him quickly. She opened the door for him – she was quite the non-traditionalist – and he got in.

"I'll go find Manuel," she told him, placing her hand on the top of the door to shut it. He watched her hesitate a second, eyes flicking towards the pier, then to the Bait Shop, then down at him. Her pink tongue darted out to lick at her lips – she must have that lipstick that doesn't wear off easily, he thought, because her lips stayed as red as ever. Then, so quick he didn't quite catch what was going on at first, she got into the limo after him, shutting the door firmly behind her.

"Um… Manuel?"he managed to get out as she bit her lip uncertainly.

"Look, Ryan, I know we don't really know each other that well – although maybe it's better – and you probably think I'm just crazy Taylor Townsend, but I was really looking forward to a nice lay tonight, and you seem up for it," she gestured down at his crotch, and he started to like her even more when she didn't blush at the implication.

"Taylor," he began with a sigh, "I don't think that's such a good idea." She didn't look hurt, and she definitely didn't look like she was going to cry. He wasn't sure Taylor Townsend _ever_ cried. "It's not that I don't want to," he continued on – there was no point in trying to hide what she had already felt on her hip – "but I don't really do the whole one-night-stand thing. Except for Chloe," he amended – _that_ little adventure was still fresh in his head.

"Who's Chloe?" She was actually curious, tilting her head to the side and furrowing her eyebrows.

"She was a waitress down in… you know what, it doesn't matter, because I never have to see her again. But you… we still have to go to Harbor for a few more weeks, and I don't want it to be weird…"

"Well Ryan," she was way too happy for someone who had just been turned down, "if that's all you're worried about, then don't be. If you hadn't noticed, I'm very good at hiding my little indiscretions, and I'm totally cool with keeping this strictly between us."

She did have a point. She'd hid the whole Hess thing for a while, and if they did this, then they'd really only have to last for a couple more weeks, and it didn't look like she was going to take this personally – he highly doubted she would want something '_more'_ after this. Plus, her dress was pulled tight across her body, and she was pressing her lips together in uncertainty, and he wondered what kinds of things she could do with that mouth.

"This stays between us?" he confirmed, and he watched her visibly relax.

"Totally!" she actually clapped her hands together, smiling that perky smile of hers. He couldn't help but laugh at the whole situation – the Harbor social chair was arranging what was turning out to be the most random sex of his life. "So how do you want to do this?" she questioned, pressing a finger to her mouth in thought. "Do you want me to lay on one of the seats, or would we have more room on the floor? Or I could ride you, if you'd like…"

It was almost unnerving, how clinical she was being, but he definitely liked the last idea. Just the thought of her bouncing up and down on him made his stomach clench, and he nodded at her. "Yeah, that one," he managed to breath out, and she nodded.

"Could you get this dress off me?" she asked, sounding like she was talking to him about the weather. Her back turned towards him, and he leaned forward, grasping the little metal zipper and pulling it down. Her back was soft and smooth, and the zipper stopped at the top of her ass, which was disappointing and thrilling at the same time. When he looked up, she was watching him over her shoulder, somehow managing to look turned on and uncertain at the same time. Apparently she still thought he was going to back out, so he gave her a lecherous grin, pushing the straps of the gown off her shoulders.

They somehow maneuvered the dress off her, the lack of height in the limo making it awkward, but it was totally worth it when the dress was just a pile of red fabric on the floor. Apparently she was serious about wanting to get laid tonight, because she was wearing a black lingerie set – although he wouldn't doubt that Taylor Townsend would always wear things like this just because it was more expensive than regular underwear. Either way, it was hot as hell, especially when she straddled his hips, letting her hands rest lightly on his shoulders.

There was a pause, each waiting for the other to move. There would be no going back, his mind warned him, but somehow he couldn't quite care. So he made the first move, sliding his hands up the backs of her thighs, and when they reached her ass, he brought her hips down and forward to press against him. She gasped softly, mouth parting as her breath hitched slightly. Hell yeah.

He gripped her ass tightly and began to rock his hips into her slowly, all the while watching her face as her eyes closed, and she began to whimper. It wasn't a loud sound, but in the silence of the limo he could hear it. Maybe they should've put on music or something, just in case she got loud. Too late now, he thought, because there was no way he was stopping this just to turn on the radio.

She was helping him now, grinding into him, trying to make the pace faster, and he couldn't help the confident smile that took over his face. Taylor Townsend was surprising him tonight. First by actually being hot, then by being funny, forward, practical, and now she was surprising him because she was so into this. She wasn't holding back, she wasn't pretending not to like it just in case he thought she was a slut. She was still letting out little moans, eyes closed, biting her bottom lip. He had the sudden urge to watch her orgasm, so he slid one hand from her ass and moved it between their bodies to press against the fabric covering her clit.

The strangled gasp that came out of her was probably the hottest thing he had ever heard, until she began to speak. "Ryan," she shuddered, forcing her hips against his hard cock, his seeking hand, "oh God, Ryan…" He'd watched enough girls come to know when she broke, warm wetness flooding against his hand, and he leaned up to catch her lips in a kiss. She gasped and moaned against his mouth, trying to kiss him back around the noises she was making. It was flattering, really, that she was trying so hard to kiss him, her hands clutching the back of his neck as her body spasmed above him.

He continued to rub her slowly as she came down, and her hips finally slowed from their frantic pace. When she was finally done, he pulled his mouth away from hers, meeting her heavy-lidded eyes with his, and she gave him a lazy smile. "Yeah?" he asked, breathless from watching her, from feeling the warmth against his crotch.

"Wow," she giggled brokenly, looking slightly tipsy and completely sated. And he was proud of himself, but right now his dick was straining against the fabric of his pants, and it was getting more than just a little uncomfortable. Taylor seemed to be on the same page as him, because she glanced down with a sultry smile. "How about we do you now?" she asked, sliding off his lap to kneel on the floor. He nodded dumbly, unable to form words as she slid her hand up his inner thigh to run her fingers lightly over the obvious bulge at his crotch.

Shit, she was good at this. She kept one hand rubbing him through his pants as the other worked the button and zipper open, relieving the pressure somewhat, which felt great. It felt even better when her hand slipped under his boxers to wrap around the base of his cock, gripping him gently as she pulled his pants over his hips – which he lifted off the seat so she could remove them completely.

His dick throbbed in her hand as she stroked him lightly, taking him in with an appraising look. "Nice," she murmured, more to herself, and he couldn't help that gasping laugh that escaped his throat.

"Thanks," he grunted, resisting the urge to take her hand and make her jerk him off faster. She seemed to see his restraint, because she smiled at him – more of a smirk, really.

"Much nicer than Sung-Ho," she tried to look thoughtful.

"Taylor," he protested with a groan. The last thing he needed right now was thinking of her doing some other guy.

"Nicer than Dean Hess…"

"Ugh, Taylor," he grunted in disgust. There was no need to bring that guy up, and the look on her face – smug and teasing – showed she knew exactly what it was doing to him. Because instead of being turned off, he was getting a little angry and frustrated, which just made him harder and hornier, if that was even possible. She pouted at him, pushing her lips out farther than was necessary, but it had the desired effect of making his cock twitch in her hand.

"Sorry," she whispered, lowering her head and brushing her lips against the head of it. All thoughts of Sung-Ho and Dean Hess flew from his mind. "Sorry," she murmured again, this time opening her mouth and letting the tip of her tongue flick against him. Her hand gripped the base of his cock tightly, the other one reaching below to play with his balls, and he let out a guttural moan, thrusting up into her tight fist. "Down boy," she breathed, letting her lips ghost over him, and he almost lost it.

He let his head fall back on the seat, staring up at the blank ceiling as she ran her tongue up the underside of his cock. She did it again, making him grunt a little. He wished he could watch her work, but the ceiling was better, because it helped him focus. If he looked at her…

She wasn't doing anything, and he was getting impatient. So he brought his head up, looking down at the girl on her knees in front of him. She was watching him, like she was waiting, and when he finally looked at her again, she dipped her head back down, this time taking him into her mouth. "Fuck," he brought his hand to the back of her head as it bobbed up and down on him. She hummed softly, the vibrations traveling from her lips to his dick, and he groaned loudly. They should've put on music.

She caught his eye, keeping their gazes locked as she lowered her head until he hit the back of her mouth. Apparently the girl had no gag reflex, because she kept going, taking him into her throat.

"Fuck," he breathed, entire body tensing in order to resist the urge to thrust into her. "Fuck. Shit, Taylor." She swallowed, throat muscles contracting around him, and he felt the familiar tingle start. And as fantastic as this was, he wanted to fuck her, so he tugged gently at her hair, and she suctioned hard as she slowly released him. "I wanna fuck you," he told her urgently as she rose off her knees.

"Ok," she nodded with him, sliding her panties off before getting into his lap again. She twisted sideways, grabbing for her purse as he ran his hands over her body, which was absolutely fantastic. Not as curvy as Theresa's, but definitely nicer than Marissa's. He always felt like he was going to break Marissa… She turned back to him with a smile, holding up the condom triumphantly, and he forgot what he had been thinking about. Something about breaking something?

It didn't matter, because Taylor gripped the little packet between her teeth, her hands removing his jacket and pulling open his shirt. She actually huffed in annoyance when she found a wife beater underneath – apparently not liking the fact that he had so many layers on. Which was flattering – even more so when his shirts were gone, and she looked him over before meeting his gaze. Her eyes were wild, and he felt his cock twitch in anticipation as she grabbed the condom packet in one hand and tore it open, spitting the excess plastic out of her mouth and rolling the latex down him.

There was a breathless moment as she hovered over him and his hands went to her hips. Their eyes locked, and there would definitely be no going back once he was inside her. But fuck it if he was going to stop, because she was panting heavily, already ready for him, slick from her orgasm. She lifted one eyebrow at him, as if to say _last chance to back out_, which told him that she definitely wanted this to continue.

So he tightened his grip on her waist and brought her hips down sharply, thrusting up at the same time, and she felt amazing; hot, slick, tight. The best part, though, was the look on her face when he was in: surprise. And he was sure enough of himself to know that it was _good_ surprise, especially when he lifted her little body up, slamming her back down on him, and she let out a loud moan.

After a few more thrusts she got over her shock, and started to work with him, rolling her hips in a way that Theresa and Sadie never did. She let out a whimper, head falling forward onto his shoulder, and she hung onto him as she rode him, clutching at his back. _Definitely_ not like Theresa or Sadie, he decided, and he realized that they were the only two girls to ever take the initiative to be on top, except for a couple randoms in Chino. So triple points for Taylor Townsend for not only proposing this whole thing, but also suggesting she be on top, and for being damn good at it.

"Jesus Christ, Ryan," he heard her moan against his skin, and suddenly he wanted to show this girl exactly what a boy from Chino could do.

There was a breathless scream and a satisfying thump as her back hit the leather seat, and she looked up at him, wide-eyed as he shifted between her legs, placing one hand over her shoulder, the other one anchoring her hip to the leather. He smirked down at her before pulling out and slamming back into her, quite content with the gasping moan she let out. "Mon dieu," she whimpered when he lowered his head to catch a nipple between his teeth, biting gently and making her hips buck wildly below him.

Never in a million years would he have pegged Taylor Townsend to be this much of a freak. Ok, maybe that was exaggerating it a bit, because she _had_ been doing a faculty member, but he hadn't expected her to be this wild. He just figured that she and the dean had awkward, uptight rich-people sex. But there was definitely nothing uptight about the way she moved, undulating her hips in a way that reminded him of a belly dancer, and he let out a low growl as he thought of her dancing for him, biting down a little harder than he meant to. She let out a strangled moan, body arching into him, and he felt her come, tightening and clenching unimaginably around him.

Which, of course, set off his own orgasm, hot fire sweeping through his body, making him tense up. "_Fuck_," he grunted lowly, thrusting one last time before spilling himself inside her. By the time he was done, his arms and legs were trembling, and really, he couldn't remember the last time a fuck made him want to collapse this badly. But he forced his body to move, pulling out of her and sitting back on the seat.

She didn't move at all, and he watched her pant heavily, legs still wide open, thighs slick with her own come, mouth parted, eyes staring at the ceiling of the limo. He couldn't help but grin as he peeled the condom off, tossing it into the bag of trash, because she was obviously blown away. Not that he was bragging, but he knew he was good at sex. Maybe not quite the sex god Seth made him out to be – which was really weird, actually, but he chose not to think about _that_.

"Jesus," he heard her breathe out, and she started to sit up. He held out his hand, and she gripped his wrist, pulling herself upright. He really shouldn't have been surprised when she grinned at him. "That was _tres _magnifique." She crawled over to him, grabbing him roughly by the back of the head and kissing him hard. "Merci beaucoup."

"You're welcome," he laughed, relaxing back into the seat as she gathered her dress off the floor, sliding it back on with some difficulty, and he zipped her up again. He noticed that she didn't put her panties back on, and he quirked an eyebrow. She shrugged, putting them in her purse.

"Unless," she paused in the action, throwing him a teasing look, "you wanted to keep them as a trophy or something." She grinned when he laughed, closing her purse and working to smooth her hair down. There was no way she was getting it back to how it was, so she settled for just making it lay flat against her head. "As long as I don't look like I just got royally fucked," she explained, combing her fingers through her hair.

When she was sufficiently decent, she smiled at him. "Thanks again," she said softly, and he decided he liked Taylor Townsend. As a person, not just as someone he wanted to screw. "I'll see you in school. Good luck with finals. Oh, and I'll send Manuel to drive you home in five minutes."

Before he could say a word she was out the door, shutting it behind her. He sighed, rubbing his eyes wearily before he started to gather his clothes. Sure enough, exactly five minutes later the front door opened, and he saw the driver get in. The man shot him a look through the rearview mirror, quirking an eyebrow, and Ryan gave him a grin. Manuel shook his head, started the limo and took him home.

All in all, prom hadn't been so bad.

…

_Review!_


	2. High School

_Alright, I seriously need to stop doing this. One-shots are called one-shots for a reason._

_Blame ORy for this. She's the one who bugged me the most about it… And in case you didn't read the first chapter's warning: it's rated for a reason (because it's diiirty). It also ended up being a little longer than I intended._

_Musique courante: Up in my lonely room, when I'm dreaming of you, oh what can I do? I still need you but I don't want you now._

* * *

All in all, high school hadn't been so bad.

Well, there were the fights, the breakups, the heartaches, the pregnant ex-girlfriends, the parent drama, the illegitimate children, the dying grandfathers, the random boyfriends and girlfriends, the siblings showing up and causing trouble, the drinking problems, the drug problems, the college problems – pretty much every problem you could think of. But still, it could have been worse.

No really. If he'd gone to high school in Chino, he'd probably either have dropped out, gone to jail, or gotten killed. None of which were better. Because despite everything that'd happened… if he hadn't come to Newport, he wouldn't have his friends. No Summer and Marissa. No Seth. No Cohens. And that, he decided, would be worse than anything that had or could happen.

And it was almost over. It was almost over, _and_ it was ending, well… _well_. He was going off to Berkeley, Summer was going to Brown, Seth would be going to RISD in the spring, and Marissa was going to work on her father's boat. It was nice seeing her so… responsible. She'd broken it off with Volchok after prom when she found out about Greece, and he'd left in a huff. Which was actually kinda funny, but whatever.

"I can't believe we're graduating," Summer whined from the couch, where she and Seth were cuddled together in that sickeningly adorable way they had.

"You hate this place," Marissa countered with a grin.

"Plus, we're going off to college!" Taylor cut in enthusiastically, "isn't it exciting?" She looked around at the others sitting on the couches. "Fine," she huffed slightly, folding her arms.

"No," Ryan spoke up, slowly. "It is kinda. I mean, a new start…"

"Dude," Seth rolled his eyes. "You've already had one of those." Ryan glared at him, effectively shutting the boy up, but he could see the grateful smile Taylor shot at him.

Ok, seriously? if the memories of that night after prom weren't so _vivid_ he'd think it hadn't happened at all. That Monday, he'd come to school fully expecting everyone to be whispering about him, and for Taylor to be waiting by his locker and expecting a relationship. Instead, everyone had been whispering, but about Summer's not so graceful fall from the ship, and it had been _Seth_ waiting by his locker and needing to talk to him.

Taylor, on the other hand, acted completely normal. She talked to Seth and Summer excitedly, greeting him and Marissa with a pleasant smile, just like always. And he'd noticed that Seth and Summer had pretty much accepted the girl into the group as a permanent member. It was weird. Their group wasn't good at handling a fifth, because it always meant some excess boyfriend or girlfriend - which meant trouble. Except that Seth and Summer seemed really stable, and he and Marissa were _not_ getting back together, thank you very much. Not that he wanted to get together with Taylor, because really? Him and _Taylor Townsend_?

Although, he _did_ keep having these hot little dreams about her, where he'd wake up and have to utilize his best friend Mr. Hand before he could fall asleep again. He really needed to get to Berkeley and find that hot, Berkeley ass he'd been thinking of.

"I need coffee," Summer muttered, standing up, and Marissa got up after her.

"Me too," she agreed. "Anyone else?"

"Coffee. Black," Ryan answered, and Marissa and Summer nodded. They turned to Seth, who rattled off some order that Ryan couldn't keep track of – something about _non-fat, half-caff_ _something or other_. Apparently Summer and Marissa couldn't keep track of the order either, because they made the boy stand up to go with them.

"Taylor? Anything?" Taylor looked overjoyed that Marissa asked her, and Ryan could tell she was happy the other girl seemed to accept her as part of the group.

"I'll have a coffee, two cream, two sugar," she smiled, and the other three walked off.

There was a slightly awkward silence when it was just him and Taylor on the couches, although he figured it had more to do with him than her. _She _seemed perfectly fine, and he wondered for the millionth time if the prom thing had really happened. His memory of it was razor-sharp in his head, but maybe he'd dreamed it? If he had, then that dream had been incredibly real; he could still remember the way she'd looked, sounded, felt, smelled, tasted. He looked over at her, and she smiled.

"You ok?" she asked, leaning forward slightly and looking concerned. He wondered if it would sound weird to ask her if they'd had sex two weeks ago. If they really had, then it would sound like she'd been such a bad lay, he couldn't even remember it. Except it was kind of the opposite - she'd been amazing, and his dreams wouldn't let him forget it. But she was so… nonchalant, it had him wondering if he was just going crazy. He had to figure it out.

"Yeah," he shrugged. "Just a little restless."

She gave a giggle, "I thought you had a standing appointment with your hand to take care of that?" Ok, well, that proved their pre-fuck conversation had taken place.

"Yeah, well, my hand isn't as satisfying as someone else taking care of it," he told her bluntly and she snorted in laughter, face scrunching up. He shrugged, biting back a smile, because he forgot how infectious her laughter was. Suddenly her smile went and her tongue darted out to lick her lips and she shot a glance over to the coffee bar where Summer, Marissa, and Seth were finally in the front of the line.

Sure that they weren't watching, she turned back to face him, and she smiled again. Except this time it wasn't a dorky smile, it was definitely a smirk as she uncrossed her legs – he caught a flash of red that made his stomach tighten - and she leaned forward farther. He swallowed hard as she bit her lip. "Well," she murmured, and suddenly he was very aware that there were nearly a hundred students milling around them, "I'm _very_ interested in helping people, Ryan. If you ever have trouble relaxing, I'm sure I'd be willing to lend a hand."

His heart was pounding and suddenly his clothes felt too restricting. He very much wanted to take her up on her offer right now – push her back on these convenient couches – but a glance sideways showed his friends gathering five cups of coffee and making their way back. "How about tonight?" he turned back to Taylor, voice low enough that no one besides her could hear. "My place?"

"Coffee, black," Marissa smiled and handed him his coffee, and he tore his eyes from Taylor and smiled back at his ex, nodding his thanks.

"And two cream, two sugar," Summer handed Taylor her coffee before sitting down next to her. Marissa sat on the other side of Taylor, and Seth plopped down next to him. He caught the surprise on Taylor's face as she looked at Marissa, obviously shocked at the seating arrangement. And he watched as she hid her delighted smile by taking a long sip of her coffee, eyes fixed on the floor.

"So I'm thinking this summer," Summer began, and he turned to the dark-haired girl, "we should all go somewhere. Like… Hawaii, or somewhere with a beach."

"Hawaii _has_ a beach," Seth cut in drily.

"I can't," Marissa sighed, and Summer frowned.

"Right, I forgot you're leaving right after graduation. You suck," she pouted.

"You guys can visit me in Greece?" Marissa offered, shrugging. "We'll be docking at some points, and my dad said we'd have some weeks between jobs." Summer was about to answer, but the bell cut them off.

"We'll talk about this later," Summer said, smiling at the idea of going to Greece, and Ryan was surprised he was actually excited about the prospect. He had friends, and a trip to Greece with them sounded incredibly relaxing. They all stood up, grabbing their bags.

"Oh, Ryan," Taylor paused, "I'd _love_ to borrow that book from you." He nodded, heart leaping in his chest, but he slung his bag over his shoulder nonchalantly.

"What book?" Summer asked curiously, and he wanted to hit the girl. He had no idea what to say, but luckily, Taylor was always good for talking.

"_Les Liaisons Dangereuses,_" she told her friend with an innocent smile, ignoring the warning glare Ryan shot at her. Way to be incredibly obvious. Except Summer shrugged, and he watched the three girls make their way down the hall, their talk turning to planning the after-graduation party.

He turned, only to find Seth wrinkling his nose in distaste. "You read that?" He shrugged off the question, because no, he hadn't. Seth seemed to accept the shrug-answer, and started to ramble about how much he _wasn't_ looking forward to the semester he'd have to spend by himself next year. Ryan didn't really listen; he was too busy trying to glance over his shoulder at Taylor's retreating back. She really had a fantastic ass.

* * *

He stepped out of the shower, cursing his poor planning. He'd only said '_tonight'_, but he hadn't been able to get her alone to agree on a time. _Tonight_ could imply any time between seven and midnight. It was currently nine, and he'd only _just_ thought of showering. He'd showered this morning, but he was – hopefully – going to have sex tonight, so he figured he should be courteous and take the time to make sure he was clean. He wrapped a towel around his waist, even though he knew there was no need. He'd locked the pool house door and closed all the blinds, so he knew Seth wouldn't be there.

To his surprise, Taylor was.

"Taylor?" She looked up from her purse and quirked an eyebrow at the towel.

"I feel overdressed," she mused, placing her hands behind her and leaning back.

"How'd you get in?" he asked, trying not to grin as she stared unashamedly at his crotch, like she was trying to see through the towel.

"Oh, I picked the lock," she waved her hand vaguely, and he barked out a laugh. Which brought her gaze up to his eyes, and she shrugged. He debated asking her where the hell a rich girl from Newport learned to pick locks - and what else she knew – but decided against it. So far he knew she was brilliant, could speak three languages, organize anything, and pick locks. Oh, and she could suck dick like a pro. And she wasn't too bad at the sex part, either. Seriously, where had the girl learned her shit?

"Don't ever teach Seth how to do that," was what came out of his mouth, and she giggled.

"Well, I kept knocking and you weren't answering, and I didn't want to risk him or your parents coming out and seeing me. But don't worry, I locked it behind me, which is good, because Seth knocked at one point, and tried the handle. I think you need to have a talk with him about personal space and boundary issues, because he was very persistent even though you didn't answer."

"Apparently I need to have that talk with you," he joked, stepping toward her. Truthfully, he didn't care that she'd broken in, especially if she was going to fuck him. She gave him a grin and stood up.

"We can talk later. Towel, off," her voice went commanding, and he dropped the cloth without thinking. "On the bed." Oh yeah, he definitely liked this girl. He sat down on the bed while she ran her gaze over him. She pushed at his shoulders lightly and he took the hint, falling back onto the mattress. "Turn."

"What?" She sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Turn over. On your stomach."

He raised one eyebrow at her, but followed her instructions, flipping over onto his stomach. "Kinky," he muttered drily, folding his arms beneath his head. He heard her give a snort – the one where she would crinkle up her nose – and the bed shifted next to him.

"It's not kinky," she explained, and a movement on the other side of his body told him she was straddling him. How was this not kinky? "I'm here to help you relax, remember?" There was a faint _pop_ and the smell of vanilla filled his nose as something cold trickled over his back. A shiver ran down his spine at the sensation, and he was about to ask what the hell she was doing when her hands pressed firmly into his back, and he realized it was lotion and she was giving him a massage.

He'd never had a massage – it wasn't all that common in Chino, and even here in Newport he hadn't had one. Probably because he had this thing where he didn't want people touching him, and the whole _being on your stomach with someone hovering over you_ was just a little too out of control for his tastes. But this actually felt good. Really good. And maybe it was because he _was _tense, or maybe it was because it was a girl – and a hot one, at that – but he started to get into it.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath as her fingers dug into his back, and he felt the muscles in his shoulders loosen, the tension drain out of him.

"So, Ryan," her voice sounded from above him, soft and low and unlike he'd ever heard it. Usually her voice was bright and perky and slightly annoying, but right now it was soothing. "What's making you so tense?"

"Well, I'd like to get laid regularly, for starters," he told her bluntly, smirking when he heard her giggle. "But seriously? I think college is freaking me out." Her hands never stopped their movements, and he sighed heavily, sinking further into the mattress.

"Why?"

"What d'you mean, why? 'Cause its college." He vaguely noticed that his voice was low and slightly slurred, like he was falling asleep or just waking up.

"But what is it about college?" she persisted, fingers finding a new spot that made him groan slightly. "Is it the moving away from your family? The idea of meeting new people? Fear of the future?"

"Well, I think I'm pretty good at meeting new people," he mused, "been doin' it all my life. Maybe it's the family thing."

"Because they're the first real family you've had?" she questioned, and he shrugged in response. "Or maybe because you feel like if you go away to college, they won't be here when you turn around?" From the way her hands hesitated for a second, he knew she felt him tense up. That had hit a little too close to home.

"Are you gonna fuck me at all? Or is it just the massage?" he asked, voice back to normal, eyes opening.

"Maybe, if you behave." He understood that _behave_ meant _answer my questions_.

"Fine." Her hands started up again, and he took a deep breath. "I think it's the future thing, too. Cause I've never really had one, you know?" He shook his head slightly, closing his eyes, "of course you don't know."

"So tell me."

"It's just… you think I had a _future_ in Chino?" It was rhetorical, and he was grateful she didn't try to answer. "And even here, it felt… unreal? Like, I think I was just telling myself '_just get through high school_'. But now it's almost over, and I even though I've been doing the whole planning for college thing, I never really…" he gave another shrug. He didn't _like_ talking, and it seemed like the amount of words he could speak in a row had a cut-off point.

"You never really thought it was going to actually happen?" He nodded, letting his word queue fill up again. "Well!" He was startled by her abrupt change of voice – from soothing to perky – and the way she pushed off of him. "I can totally help you!" The massage obviously done, he flipped over onto his back and put his hands behind his head, waiting for her to continue. "Well, the future thing is the easiest to fix," she decided, pursing her lips, eyebrows drawing together in concentration.

"Then cure me," he invited. Not that he was particularly convinced she _could_ help him, but the way she was so intently focusing on this was kind of cute.

"The thing with the future is, it's going to happen." Well, duh. "And the minute you accept that, there's nothing to be worried about. College is _going_ to happen, and you got in, and the Cohens – I'm assuming – have it all paid for, so there's no reason for you to be tense about that part of it. Oh, and don't go getting all guilty on me for the Cohens paying for it. I know you have that whole 'male pride' thing, but you need to get over that."

The weird thing was, he knew all this already. He _knew_ that he was going to college, and that it was all paid for, and that he shouldn't feel guilty for the Cohens paying for it, but hearing it from someone else – someone that wasn't family or a close friend – made it all the more real. She was right.

"And as for the Cohens not being there if you go? That's just absolute bullshit." The curse startled a laugh out of him, and her eyes went wide and she clapped a hand over her mouth. "Sorry!" He laughed lightly, rolling his eyes at her while she collected herself. "What was I saying? Right. The Cohens will _always_ be there. I mean, you ran away once, right? After Sophomore year?" he nodded, a little surprised that she knew about that. Had Seth regaled her with that story, or had she actually been aware of him back then? Because he hadn't been aware of her. "And they were still here when you came back?" He nodded again, a little more cautiously. "And you can't seriously tell me that Seth wouldn't follow you to the ends of the Earth, just to talk about himself?" She grinned when he did, letting him relax slightly in the lightness of that statement. "Sandy and Kirsten strike me as being just as persistent. Ryan, they wouldn't have taken you in, spent all this money on you, all this time and effort, if they were just going to send you off to college and never speak to you again."

He wanted to argue but… fuck, she actually made sense. "Fine," he relented, glaring at her in mock anger and getting an ecstatic smile in response. "Now all I have to do is make it through college, and I'm golden." He expected her to laugh, but instead she looked at him – startled – before… starting to look a little angry.

"Don't tell me you don't think you're _smart_ enough to pass college." When he didn't answer, she huffed angrily, blowing the bangs out of her face in annoyance. "You know, for being this hot, loyal, athletic, smart, funny guy, you're incredibly insecure." She must have seen the protest on his face, because she rolled her eyes. "If you can't believe any of those things because they're true, then believe them because of me. Ryan," she pleaded, "do you really think I would sleep with someone who was an idiot? Or ugly? Or boring? Or a complete ass?"

"Well, you did screw Dean Hess…"

"He was means to an end," she sniffed, frowning. "What do I have to gain from sleeping with you? Besides the orgasms, of course."

"Nothing, I guess," he shrugged, not all that offended. It's not like he had anything to gain from sleeping with _her_. Besides the orgasms, of course.

"Anything else?" she asked, voice regaining its normal quality – perky and bright.

"What?"

"Anything else I can help you with?" She looked so serious, it took all of his will power not to burst out laughing. Instead he settled for a grin – or, more accurately, a dirty smirk – as his gaze went straight to her chest. "Oh!" his eyes flicked up in time to see realization take over, and she looked chagrined for a minute. "Of course, I totally forgot." Truth be told, so had he for a few minutes there while she was helping him. Maybe _helping_ was a bad term to use, because _reading his goddamn mind_ was more accurate. He watched her eyes wander down his chest to his crotch, and he remembered suddenly that he was completely naked. And she wasn't.

Which was a problem.

"Well, taking your clothes off would help," he suggested nonchalantly. She nodded, standing up, and he settled back more comfortably on the bed as she stood in front of him.

It wasn't a striptease, really. She was taking off her clothes, and it was hot as hell, but it definitely didn't qualify as stripping simply for the fact that she neatly folded each piece of clothing she removed and set it gently on the wicker chair. And he'd been right, at prom, when he guessed that Taylor Townsend just always wore lingerie. Or maybe it was just for him, which was flattering. This set was red, and he decided that Taylor Townsend should always wear red.

Or nothing at all.

Yeah, he was definitely preferring the naked look on her, especially when she stepped forward and got on the bed, straddling his legs again. Except this time he was on his back, and he brought his hands to her hips as she settled above him.

"I'm having a major sense of déjà vu," she murmured, looking down at him.

"Except last time, I was sitting up, and we were in a limo." It was meant to be a joke, but it didn't quite fly because _limo_ ended up as a moan when she ground her hips against him.

She bent down, forearms on either side of him, breasts pressing against his chest, and she brought her lips to hover near his ear. "Relax, Ryan," she murmured, and he detected a slight hint of triumph in there. He knew where this was going and as fantastic as her blowjobs were, he really just wanted to fuck her.

Good God, he wanted to fuck her.

She'd been in his dreams every night for the past two weeks, and he'd either lose it in his sleep or wake up and have to jerk off quickly – neither of which was very satisfying compared to what dream-Taylor had been _doing_ to him. Or what real-Taylor _could do_ to him. So it wasn't like he didn't appreciate the fact that she wanted to do this for him – blow him, ride him, whatever else she had in store – but right now, he didn't want to do this her way.

"Oh!" He loved that noise, he decided. And not just because it was the sound she made when he flipped her over onto her back, but because he loved the idea of making her scream. It was _very_ satisfying to have this girl – normally so composed – throw herself at him not once, but twice.

"Ryan…" her breathless protest brought him back to reality. "This is supposed to be about you." She pushed at his shoulders, trying to get him to roll over onto his back, but he just grinned down at her, grabbing her wrists and pinning them to the bed. "I'm supposed to be helping you… Ryan?" She sat up when he got off the bed, moving over to the side of the room near his punching bag.

"Lay down." She frowned at him, looking confused, but did as he said and lay back again. Making sure she couldn't see him, he grabbed the bandages he used to bind his knuckles when he used the bag before heading back over. "This _is_ helping me," he told her, and the tone of his voice surprised him. He sounded… not like himself. It wasn't his normal voice, and it wasn't even his sex voice. It was his Chino voice – hard and low and full of promise. He watched her bite her lip and moan, eyes closing and head tilting back as he got on top of her again. She must have noticed the change in him, because the look in her eyes before they closed had been wildly aroused and… hopeful? But when his hands found hers, fingers lacing together, she opened them, confused. He gave her as reassuring a smile as he could, bringing her hands slowly up over her head, and leaned down.

He kissed her, long and slow, making her moan, making her arch into him, until she was so far gone she didn't notice the strips of cloth he wound around her wrists. He left her like that, hands bound above her head, eyes closed, happy smile on her face, as he headed for the punching bag again. The newly reawakened part of him asked why the hell he hadn't put the condoms in the drawer beside his bed, and his real self answered that Seth had a nasty little habit of going through his drawers – '_for fun'_ – and the last thing he needed was for his brother to have a count of how many condoms he currently possessed. Because if Seth knew the number before tonight, and then found them later… well, Ryan was sure the boy would have some questions as to where they'd gone.

But Seth wouldn't look anywhere near his sports equipment. He knelt down and pulled out his old soccer cleats, reaching inside the left one for the strip of condoms he'd hid in there.

"Ryan?" It looked like she'd recovered from his kiss, and he turned to find her lowering her bound hands, looking at them in confusion before looking at him. Realization dawned, and she glared at him. "Jerk." He grinned, vaguely aware that his old self had definitely taken over. Hell, he wasn't going to fight it. And instead of looking afraid of him, Taylor looked like she was enjoying the game, now that she'd gotten over her anger for the trick he pulled.

He threw the strip of condoms so they landed on the bed next to her, not stopping as he made his way to the top of the bed. "Hands up." He waited, because either she was going to trust him and put her hands up, or she was going to tell him he was a perverted freak and demand to be untied. If she put her hands up, he'd tie the excess cloth around the handle in the mattress – he'd found it when he'd gotten bored last summer and decided to clean the pool house. He'd been trying to move the bed – unsuccessfully – until he'd removed the sheets and found the edges had little handles for moving. Well, for moving and tying a girl up. And if she demanded to be untied, he'd do it. It was up to her.

She put her hands up. "Thatta girl," he murmured, voice low and scratchy as he caught the ties around her wrists and secured them tightly to the handle. She let out a moan, arching outward, showing herself off, and he definitely had a great view.

Sure that she was secure – that she couldn't free herself – he stood up slowly. Now that he had her here, he wanted to enjoy himself, damnit. She was so hot – all tanned skin, taught stomach, perky breasts, long legs. And the way her hands were tied over her head, she was stretched out below him, completely displayed for him.

He moved to kneel on the bed next to her, pausing for a moment to take her in before placing his right hand on her stomach, sliding it down to the apex of her legs. She gasped as he slid one finger into her, then a second as she spread her legs wider. He wasn't quite sure why he was going slow – it wasn't like he needed to convince her to sleep with him. She'd already proposed that herself. And it wasn't like his conscience was getting in the way – she let herself get tied up, for fuck's sake, she obviously wasn't opposed to any of it.

He wanted her to scream. At prom – in the limo – she hadn't been able to, for fear of someone hearing. But here, in the pool house, she could be as loud as she wanted because the Cohens were in the main house, upstairs, asleep. And Seth? That boy could sleep through a revolution. Ryan knew, from his time spent with Sadie, that screaming wouldn't be heard. Not that Sadie screamed all that loudly – now that he thought about it. She was too… grounded? Grounded for that sort of thing – not open to grand displays of emotion. Kind of like him.

But Taylor? He just had a feeling she'd _scream_. Maybe because she was naturally chatty, and people who talked a lot tended to be a little more dramatic – _Seth – _than regular people. Or maybe it was because she seemed so unashamed of sex. She had no qualms about fucking some random guy she only knew through mutual friends in the back of a limo; she had no qualms about letting a car thief from Chino strip her naked and tie her up.

And he wanted her to _scream_, he decided, moving his fingers languidly in and out of her until she was writhing on the bed, cursing his name. "God, Ryan," she breathed, bucking her hips to try and take him deeper, "just fuck me already." He let out a deep chuckle – good God, did he actually just _chuckle?_ – dipping his head down to plant open-mouthed kisses to her neck, her collarbone, her breasts, her stomach. She tasted amazing and he ran his tongue around her navel to get more. "Mon dieu, je ne peux pas croire que nous jamais n'avons avant fait ceci." He wasn't sure what that meant, but the fact that she'd – apparently unconsciously – slipped into French was really good for his ego.

He could tell she was about to come, from the shallow, staccato breaths to the way the muscles in her were spasming, she was waiting for it, waiting for him to push her over the edge. Instead, he slowed the movement of his fingers, straightening up to watch her, and she whimpered in protest. "Please?" Fuck yeah. Hearing _Taylor Townsend - _resident perfectionist and Newpsie-in-training - _beg_ him for an orgasm was probably the hottest thing he'd ever heard. And there was an odd sense of triumph in it. Ok, so she wasn't a full-on Newpsie, and she didn't seem to look down on him, and they'd already fucked once, but it was still satisfying to know she wanted him. He reached down and began stroking himself to relieve the pressure, because she was so hot, and he remembered what it was like to be inside her, and suddenly he needed her to orgasm _now_, because he needed to fuck her. So he curled his fingers inside her, pressing down on her clit with his thumb.

Finally she came, letting out what was close enough to a scream for him and tightening unimaginably around his fingers. Thank God. He let her ride her orgasm before he removed his hand and swiped the condoms off the bed, tearing open one of the packets and unrolling it onto himself.

"Wow," she giggled, coming down, finally opening her eyes to look at him. He grinned at her and settled over her, resting his weight on one forearm as he reached between them with his other hand and positioned himself at her entrance. There was a deep moan from her and a grunt from him as he slid in, pausing for a moment until she adjusted to him.

"Oh mon dieu, j'ai presque oublié." He pulled back to look at her, but her eyes were closed, head tilted back. "Si bon."

"What?" he laughed, because she still didn't seem to realize she was rambling in French. Her eyes opened and she looked confused before realization dawned.

"Oops," she giggled, and he couldn't help but smile at her breathless, slightly dorkish laugh. "I said I couldn't believe I almost forgot what you felt like. Would you please move? I think I might actually go crazy if you don't." She emphasized her point by hooking her legs behind his back and digging her heels into him.

"You're already crazy," he reminded her, pulling out almost completely before sliding back in.

"Well, crazier, then," she whined. He kept the pace slow – he wanted to hear her beg again – and she sighed in annoyance, trying to move her hips faster. "Jesus, Atwood," she huffed, twisting against the restraints around her wrists, "I asked you to fuck me."

Well, he had to hand it to the girl; she definitely knew what she wanted, and she wasn't afraid to ask for it. So he flashed her a dirty grin before bending down and kissing her roughly. Then, in one quick movement he pushed himself up to rest his weight on his hands and slammed into her as hard as he could. _There_ was the scream he wanted. It rang out in the silence of the pool house, quickly followed by another as he did it again, moving one hand to her waist as he lost what tenuous control he had.

He hoped he wasn't hurting her. In the back of his mind he knew he was being too rough – he was gripping her too tightly, slamming his hips into her too hard. She didn't seem to mind, though, which was weird. He was good at controlling himself during sex; he'd only lost control a few times – once with Theresa, and a couple more with some randoms back in Chino. Theresa had walked funny for a while after he did, and he had no idea what happened to the randoms, because they were… well, they were random, and he never saw them again. Shit, Theresa'd been so mad at him because she'd had to go to church walking funny; she'd cut him off for a month after that.

But Taylor… she was working with him, hands straining against the ties, moving her hips in that _way_ she had, voice low and chanting something. He couldn't really make it out. She was speaking, but it was a mix of English and French, and he swore there was some Spanish thrown in, all of it punctuated by harsh moans as she writhed under him, trying to free her hands. But none of it – the parts in English and Spanish that he actually understood – seemed to be in protest. She actually looked like she was _enjoying_ it. Which was good, because he wasn't sure he could slow down.

He wasn't quite sure why this girl was driving him crazy - maybe it was the two-week-long build up? The weirdest thing was, before prom, he'd never even _thought _of her like that. Now, he couldn't think of her any other way than a kinky little sexpot - when he saw her in the halls at school, he flashed to pictures of her naked, on her knees, lips stretched around him. She was so fucking _good_ at this.

Suddenly, her eyes shot wide open and her mouth opened in a silent scream as her entire body tensed, and _fuck_ she felt fantastic, spasming and clenching around him as he continued to fuck her through her orgasm. He shifted his grip, sitting up as he brought his other hand down between them, pressing his thumb to her clit. She jerked near violently under him, and the tightness around his cock was too much; his own orgasm slammed into him unexpectedly and he growled out her name, vision blurring a bit.

"_Fuck_," she breathed after a few minutes – after they both came down and got their breath back.

"Very eloquent," he grinned, pulling out of her and leaning up to release her wrists. She'd pulled the knots tight, but he eventually got them undone, and she slapped him playfully when she was free.

"Sorry. It seems every _eloquent_ word's been fucked out of my head." He laughed, flopping onto his back next to her as he caught his breath.

"Well, I agree. That was fantastic."

"Fucktastic," she agreed with a nod, and he remembered his whole Theresa/being cut off disaster.

"So you're ok?" he turned his head to look at her for any traces of pain.

"Well, I may be walking funny at graduation, but otherwise I'm fine." She paused, running a shaky hand through her hair and looking thoughtful, "I don't think I've ever been fucked like _that_."

"See, I told you I was good at this." She laughed, and he grinned up at the ceiling. Truthfully, he wanted to tell her that _he'd_ never been fucked like that – she was amazing – but he couldn't quite make his mouth form the words. "I thought for a second maybe I'd hurt you or something."

"Nope," she mumbled, sounding half asleep. "Did it _sound_ like you were hurting me?"

"Well, I dunno, it wasn't really _English_," he laughed again, relief and orgasm making him a little lightheaded.

"Do you always do this guilt thing?" Her question caught him off guard, and she turned to face him, quirking an eyebrow. "I mean, you did it in the limo before prom, and now." He shrugged, because yeah, he did do the guilt thing a lot. It was just who he was. "You make it sound like you're a bad person."

"And here I thought you were just attracted to the whole 'bad boy' thing," he joked, snaking an arm around her waist, because joking was easier than being serious.

"Actually," she scrunched up her nose in distaste, "bad boys annoy me. And you're not."

"You're the only one who seems to think I'm not," he watched her hand trail over his chest.

"You can't tell me the _Cohens_ think you're bad," she argued. "Or Summer or Marissa."

"They used to," he shrugged.

"Well, you're not. That guy Marissa went to the prom with? _He_'s a bad person." Ryan laughed, because he couldn't argue with that. "You're a really good guy, Ryan Atwood," she continued softly, her face determined. He couldn't think of anything to say to that, so instead he bent his head and kissed her. "You're welcome," she smiled when he pulled away. Then it faded, and she bit her lip. "I should go."

"You could stay," he sat up with her, but she shook her head.

"If I stay any longer, I'll fall asleep, and the last thing we need is Seth finding a way to barge in here in the morning and find me." She had a point, but he was still a little disappointed. He kind of wanted to go another round with her; maybe get her on her hands and knees… But she was already up and pulling her clothes on.

"Well," he groaned, following her up, "wear this." He grabbed a hoodie out of his closet and handed it to her. She looked at it disdainfully and he ducked his head over a grin. The thing was ratty – it was his from Chino, but it was the smallest one he had. "Just in case one of the Cohens is in the kitchen or something." She nodded and put it on, zipping it up and pulling the hood over her hair. He was satisfied that if Seth _was_ spying – trying to see why he hadn't answered the door earlier – the boy wouldn't be able to recognize her.

"Bye," she leaned up and kissed him. "Have fun at graduation."

"You too," he told her retreating back, and she threw a smile at him over her shoulder before heading out the door.

He flopped back onto his bed when she was gone. Right, graduation. He smiled, because it was weird – graduation didn't scare him. He was _ready_ to go to college, and Taylor was right: he _was_ smart enough to make it. He pulled the covers up and closed his eyes.

All in all, high school hadn't been so bad.

* * *

review


	3. Greece

_Don't believe your eyes? Me neither. I didn't think I'd EVER get this done, but... viola!_

_Also, this chapter is totally dedicated to Ave and ORy. Ave for giving me direction and breaking my writer's block into little pieces of gravel (for a while, at least). And for ORy. This was supposed to be for you to wish you a get well, but I'm a little late… ok, a lot late. I know, I lose at life._

_Also, I suppose I should warn everyone again, this story is diiirty._

_Music: I sit and wait for you, cause this was never over_

* * *

All in all, Greece hadn't been so bad.

Well, except for the plane ride over here – that hadn't gone so well. It seemed that Seth and Summer were having a little bit of separation anxiety, and were – as always – taking it out on each other. And of course they weren't _aware_ they were just nervous about going their separate ways – Summer to Brown and Seth staying in Newport until the spring semester. No, they just got into more and more fights the further along into summer they got. In June they'd been all romantic and inseparable. The fighting had started in early July. Marissa's invitation to visit her in Crete had come then, too. Two weeks later, they were on a plane out.

And oddly enough, it wasn't the height – or the fact that they were riding in a giant steel cage that should _not_ physically be able to fly – that made the ride horrible. It was his seat next to Seth that shoved the whole _height and giant steel death trap_ out of his head, because the boy hadn't shut up the entire trip. And when he'd looked over to where Summer and Taylor were sitting, he could tell Taylor was going through the same thing he was, considering the angry look on Summer's face and the way her mouth was moving.

And now here they were, in the port city of Chania, and their fighting had only gotten worse. Marissa had gotten them a shared room at a local hotel, but Seth had spent most of the nights in Ryan's room – which he should've had to himself. Luckily Taylor had her own room, so he just had to wait until Seth fell asleep before he could sneak out to fuck her.

He was actually a little surprised Taylor had gone for that plan. When Marissa left right after graduation and Seth and Summer went into their 'ungodly cute couple-y' phase, he'd been incredibly bored. Taylor had been planning on going to Korea for vacation, but she'd called it off – to spend time with her mother, she said, but he knew the real reason. It was the promise of going to Greece with them. He'd noticed her almost disbelief when Marissa had mentioned it again, including Taylor in the general invite. Either way, she stayed home from Korea, and he'd suggested they try the buddy-fuck thing. His logic – that she'd agreed with – was that it beat both of them being bored, and they were _obviously_ good at sex. And if it didn't work out – if it got too awkward, or if they got bored with each other – they'd just break it off, no harm, no foul. And then in the fall, she'd go off to Paris and he'd go to Berkeley.

So far it was working great. Seth and Summer didn't suspect a thing – too caught up in their petty arguments to notice the heavy innuendo in any conversation that he and Taylor were a part of. And even Marissa – now that they were here – didn't notice anything, because she had something to distract her. She'd found some wealthy Grecian shipping heir named Christos to shack up with. Ryan was proud of his ex – she _finally_ picked a guy that wasn't a complete jackass. Not only that, but the girl'd been alcohol and drug free for almost three months.

Right now, Christos was showing them around the port, pointing out landmarks that Ryan was sure he wouldn't remember in five minutes. Taylor, though, was walking next to the man – who he guessed was around twenty-two – and talking eagerly about Minoan something-or-other. He wasn't following that conversation, either, but Taylor mentioned going to see some city – Knossos? – somewhere east along the coast. It was supposed to be some ancient city, part of the earliest European civilization. He wasn't too interested, but he agreed that he wanted to go see it. He wasn't sure _why_ he agreed – it definitely wasn't for the way Taylor had smiled at him. It was for the buildings, he told himself. The buildings and the architecture.

And maybe a _little_ to get on the good side of the girl that was currently his best chance for an orgasm tonight.

"Shut up, Cohen," Summer's anger brought his attention away from Taylor, and he turned back to watch his two friends start arguing. He shook his head and turned back around, catching the smile on Marissa's face as she watched them.

"What's up?" he asked quietly, bringing her focus onto him. Taylor and Christos walked on ahead, talking about pottery – or something to that effect – and Summer and Seth trailed behind. Which left him and Marissa walking together in the middle. He thought it would be awkward – given their history – but it wasn't. It was… well, it was like walking with a friend. Weird.

"It's just nice to hear them arguing again," she smiled, somewhat sadly, glancing over her shoulder again.

"Yeah, you won't think that by the end of the trip," he laughed, shaking his head. They'd only been in Greece for four days now, so their constant arguing hadn't had time to get on Marissa's nerves yet. He'd been listening to it for a month.

They walked in silence for a few more minutes, the sounds of Taylor and Christos' discussion, Seth and Summer's arguments, and the general noise of a port city becoming a soothing buzz around him. "So how're you? Looking forward to college?"

"Yeah." And he was. College didn't freak him out – although he was sure when it came closer, he'd start to panic a little. "I think it'll just be weird not having Seth or you or Summer around."

"Yeah," she squinted, looking out at the ocean that had become visible between buildings. "It gets a little lonely. But I have dad, and Christos, and I've made friends with some of the guys on the boat." She shrugged again, looking back at him. "But it's not the same, you know?"

He nodded, and they walked on in silence again. It wouldn't be the same. Even if Marissa decided to give up the boating life and go to Berkeley, Seth and Summer would still be on the other side of the country. And – even though he tried not to think about it – Taylor had become a familiar constant in his life. It was routine now, for her to be present when he hung out with Seth and Summer. And it was routine for her to break into the pool house every night after the Cohens went to sleep. It had almost become a game with them, the sneaking around thing.

Sometimes, it was almost like they were trying to get caught.

Which was ridiculous, because the last thing he needed was for Summer or Seth or Marissa or Sandy or – God forbid – _Kirsten_ to find out he was fucking Taylor Townsend behind their backs. Because then they would meddle. He knew they would. Even Sandy, for all of his attempts at being a _cool _dad and trying to give him space. And Kirsten? God, he could just imagine her, trying to hide a smile and telling him how _adorable_ it was.

Plus, why get everyone involved when she was going to France in a little over a month? Sure, she'd be back for breaks, and he was sure he'd have to hang out with her again – because Seth and Summer would be back – but most likely he'd get a girlfriend at Berkeley and she'd most likely find some Frenchman to sweep her off her feet.

"Yeah? Well maybe Princess Sparkle doesn't _want_ to keep in touch with Captain Oats!"

"I think I should take this," Marissa sighed – hiding a smile – before falling back to talk to her friend. Seth glared at the girls and picked up his pace to catch up with Ryan.

"So how's the wife?"

Seth glared at him – or, _tried_ to glare – but didn't answer.

"I can't wait till she leaves," he muttered after a few minutes.

"Yes you can." Ryan wasn't exactly in the mood for denial. For some reason he was suddenly annoyed, even though he was sure it wasn't because of Seth and Summer. He wasn't sure what it _was_ because of. Three feet in front of them, Taylor giggled at something Christos had said.

"Not-uh," Seth argued childishly, pouting. "When she's gone, I'll get to do anything I want. Like… like sleep until noon and eat Cheetos in bed and – oh! – man, I don't have to shower as often…"

"Please don't come visit me at Berkeley," Ryan interrupted, bringing his hands up to rub at his temples. He had a headache.

"I'm not gonna miss her at all."

"Yeah, you will." It came out louder than he expected and Taylor and Christos turned to look at him curiously, and a glance behind him showed Marissa and Summer looking confused. But his head was pounding and he couldn't help but keep talking. "You're both gonna miss each other," he included Summer in this – she looked at the ground uncomfortably. "And it freaks you out that you'll be on opposite ends of the country, but if you'd just realize you belong together, you'd be able to shut the hell up."

They had stopped in the middle of the street, all staring at him and a couple passerbys were whispering. He shrugged uncomfortably – the sun was suddenly incredibly hot – staring at a building to avoid everyone's eyes. When no one said anything – and he got too uncomfortable – he muttered something about going back to the hotel and moved past Taylor and Christos.

* * *

He heard the door open through the music in his ears, but didn't open his eyes. If he opened his eyes, it would give Seth reason to start talking – whining – about Summer, and he wasn't in the mood. He just wanted to relax – lay here and listen to some Journey. This was quiet time.

"Are you ok?" His eyes opened to watch Taylor close the door behind her, looking slightly confused and worried.

"Just tired," he shrugged, eyes fixing on the ceiling. "Should you be in here? Seth could come in." Which would be half the thrill, but he really didn't feel like dealing with the chances. Today had gotten him thinking – _really_ thinking – about what would happen if everyone found out. He wasn't sure he could handle that.

"Seth and Summer are out to dinner. I think your little outburst earlier got to them." The bed dipped as she sat on the edge and he unconsciously shifted away from her. "I have a feeling Seth'll be using his own room tonight." Her hand went to his chest and he felt all his muscles tighten up. "Ryan, are you sure you're ok? You seem really tense." He loved that she didn't think it was because of her – he'd met too many girls who thought that just because he was tense, it was because they were there. Girls like that pissed him off – he loved that Taylor wasn't so full of herself to think she ruled his life or something.

His head started to pound again.

"Just sick of having to listen to the Seth and Summer show all the time," he lied. He wasn't, really. He'd been dealing with Seth's drama for three years now – he was used to it. But he wasn't sure _why_ he felt like shit and he knew if he didn't give her some reason, she'd keep pestering him.

"Oh."

…and she didn't believe him – _great_. He shot a look at her – she was frowning at him but she didn't say anything else. Maybe she sensed he didn't want her to? She was always good at reading him.

Fuck, his head hurt.

"Do you want to have sex?" He finally turned to really look at her where she sat, hand running soothingly over his chest, but otherwise she made no move to seduce him. She was just waiting for him to make up his mind. She always let him run the show – or at least let him _think_ he was running the show, which was alright with him. She let him do what he wanted, she didn't pressure him.

It was like someone was pushing pins into his temples.

"I have a headache."

"Did you take something?" the hand on his chest moved up to his temple, cool fingers pressing into his skin. He shrugged again, eyes closing as her other hand moved up to the other temple. "I'll get you some aspirin," she murmured, voice low and soothing. The bed shifted as she got off, removing her hands from his head. He didn't tell her that her fingers had started to relieve the pressure.

A dart of pain shot behind his eyes.

He opened them, the light from the bathroom almost blinding him, but he didn't look away. Instead he watched her move around, opening cabinets and looking for something to get rid of his headache. It looked like she finally found something, because she turned around triumphantly, reading the back of a bottle intently as she came back into the room.

"Ok," she started, grabbing his water bottle off the bedside table and sitting back on the bed. "Take two of these every four to six hours." She turned and held the medicine and water out to him expectantly. He hesitated for a second before sitting up and taking them from her. She gave him a blinding smile as he popped the bottle open and poured two capsules into his hand, downing them and chasing it with water.

It was like she was mothering him, the way she took the pills and water away and set them on the bedside table before pushing gently at his shoulders for him to lay down. It annoyed the hell out of him and he shifted uncomfortably when he realized it was the first time he'd ever been annoyed with her. Well, the first time since they'd hooked up – when she was screwing Hess, he'd been annoyed with her a lot.

Apparently she thought he was shifting to make room for her, because she stretched out next to him, wrapping one arm around him and sighing contentedly.

"You're staying?" What the hell? He couldn't believe he'd actually just said that and neither could she, from the way she sat up like she'd been electrocuted.

"Sorry. I didn't know you wanted to be alone." She shot him a smile, but he'd known her long enough now to realize it was fake. "I'll just go. Feel better!" Her voice was full of enthusiasm but she didn't meet his gaze – pain flared behind his eyes – as she stood up and left the room.

* * *

The next day dawned bright – just like every other day here. His headache was gone, but the tension in his shoulders wasn't. He wrote it off as not getting his nightly orgasm and focused on the good news that Seth had indeed slept in his own room that night – with Summer. Taylor had been right; his little outburst had gotten to them. Apparently they'd gone out for dinner the night before, then taken Taylor's Kama Sutra to their own room to have make-up sex.

He knew all this – of course – because Seth had burst into his room at six in the morning to tell him about it. Ryan had told the boy to get the hell out and go back to his girlfriend before she woke up and got pissed off. The last thing they all needed was more pissed off Summer.

"You ok?"

He swallowed the last of his food and turned to Marissa. Christos was running late, Seth and Summer were being cutesy across the table, and Taylor was picking at her food next to them. "Yeah, I'm good." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Taylor's head rise and her mouth open. Then she shut it and went back to eating, and he was glad she hadn't asked if he still had a headache. That would've been slightly suspicious, considering he hadn't told anyone about it.

"Sorry I'm late," Christos breathed as he reached their table, bending down and kissing Marissa on the cheek. Ryan noticed her smile – the way she turned her head slightly and her eyes went to the floor, trying to hide it. It made him a little sad, because he'd never gotten that smile from her. Because she was happy – really happy. No drama, no stress. She'd found someone, and it made him a little sad that he hadn't.

They ate in horrifying tension. Well, _he_ ate in horrifying tension, because Seth and Summer were being a couple again, and Marissa and Christos were having some conversation about boats. Taylor was eating silently, and _that_ was where the tension came from. She always talked. When she was nervous, happy, upset, annoyed, excited… she just talked. He seemed to be the only one who noticed.

When they were done, Christos offered to show them his fleet of boats, so they all left the restaurant together. Somehow, Taylor managed to get Seth away from Summer, and the two started talking about anime, while Summer rolled her eyes and moved forward to chat with Christos about stock investments – no wonder the girl was going to Brown. Which left him and Marissa together again – it seemed to be a pattern here.

"You sure you're ok?" she asked again, hands in her pockets and turning her face up to the sun, eyes closed.

"I told you, I'm good." It came out sounding a little growly – one of Taylor's terms.

"Taylor's getting to you, huh?" He couldn't help the way his head turned sharply to look at her. She smiled up at the sky before lowering her head and turning to look back at him. He opened his mouth to protest, stomach churning madly. This is what he hadn't wanted. "I know she can be annoying, but… she's gotten better." She sighed, shrugging. "She's trying, you know?"

"I thought you hated her." For the first time in his life, he was grateful for Marissa's complete inability to read him.

"I did. She's still a little annoying, but she's definitely better. Plus I kinda feel bad for her – her mom's such a bitch. So just… go easy on the girl, ok? Try to talk to her. Or, since you're not much of a talker, try not to make it awkward for her." Ok, when had Marissa Cooper started to defend Taylor Townsend? He felt like he was in the Twilight Zone or something.

"Sure." It was just easier to agree with her than try to argue. Or try to explain the situation.

Maybe he should break it off with Taylor. If Marissa was picking up on the tension, then it wouldn't be long before Seth or Summer would – if they could get their minds off each other for a second. And those two wouldn't be so easy to get rid of. He turned to face forward as they walked, eyes landing on Taylor's back as she gestured emphatically, Seth making a face and shaking his head _no_. He'd have to make sure Taylor was facing him when he broke up with her, because it would be too hard doing it if she were facing away.

She really had a fantastic ass.

* * *

"You could've just knocked," he sighed, pulling the headphones out of his ears and closing his book. She shrugged, closing and locking the door behind her.

"It's more fun picking the lock. Plus, I'm pretending we're spies, working for different countries, and we're having a forbidden affair." He couldn't help but laugh – she did this sometimes; made up little scenarios for them to play out. Wait, he was breaking up with her…

No, he wasn't 'breaking up' with her. 'Breaking up' implied a relationship. He was just breaking it off with her. Ending their arrangement. "Marissa asked why I was so tense around you today."

_That_ made her stop, halfway to his bed, hands going to her hips and mouth turning down in a frown. "That's your fault," she told him, moving forward again to sit on the end of his bed. He sat up, arms resting on the top of his bent knees. "You're the one acting all weird lately." Her eyes narrowed for a second before she sighed. "You're breaking up with me, aren't you?"

"We can't let anyone find out. Plus, you're leaving for France in a month. We'd have to break it off then anyway."

"Yeah, but I'd rather get good, regular sex until I can find some boy in France to get it from."

He felt the pressure start in his head again. Why was she pushing this? They'd both agreed at the beginning that if one of them wanted to stop, they would. He felt the bed shift as she got to her knees on the bed, pushing at his shoulders until he fell back.

"You're just being Ryan," she told him, like that said everything. "Now, stop being so stubborn and fuck me, ok?" Her hands pressed against his shoulders as she got on top of him, grinding her hips against him. And he would've protested – really, he would've – if she hadn't leaned forward and pressed her mouth to his.

Taylor was an amazing kisser – just the right amount of tongue, the right well-placed moans, the right mix of dominance, the right amount of submission. She pulled back abruptly, lifting herself off him and getting off the bed.

"Take your clothes off," she basically _ordered_, hands going to the waistband of her jeans, snapping the button open. He was about to protest when she dropped her pants, turning away from him as she lifted her shirt over her head.

He should really just stop kidding himself and play along. So he sat up and pulled his shirt off, lying back down to open and push off his jeans. After he'd kicked the fabric off the bed, he turned to watch her as she unhooked her bra, looking at him over her shoulder. Then she bent forward, hooking her thumbs in the elastic of her lacy boy shorts, pulling them down slowly.

He bit back a groan, resisting the urge to get up, spin her around, and fuck her over the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped as she put her knee up, swinging her other leg over him like she was mounting a horse or something. He grinned at the thought – maybe they could play cowgirl next? Get her a little outfit. And a hat.

She settled on his lower abdomen, making him shift a little in annoyance that she wasn't lower. His hands automatically went to her hips but she shook her head _no_, grabbing his wrists and placing them above his head. "Stay."

"Yes ma'am," he grinned as she nodded in approval. She'd never 'paid him back' for tying her up that second time around. Looked like she was collecting.

She bent down and kissed his neck, slowly, sucking softly on the skin. "Have I ever told you how sexy you are?" she breathed, nipping gently at his ear before moving down again, stopping briefly at his jugular, dragging her teeth over the spot. He let out a deep moan, closing his eyes, only vaguely aware that he probably should be quieter – what with Seth's tendency to drop by anytime he felt like it. "So hot," she whispered against his skin as she moved down, shifting her hips lower to the tops of his thighs, still frustratingly far from where he wanted them.

He clenched his hands into fists above his head as she ran hers over him – lips following at a slower pace. "Taylor," he grunted, not opening his eyes, "are you gonna let me touch you at all?"

"No," she giggled, raking her nails over his skin. "And if you try, I'll stop," she warned. He swallowed but didn't argue – she might stop if he argued, too.

She continued working him with her mouth, kissing and licking every inch of his chest, his stomach. By the time she reached his lower abdomen, he was rock hard, panting, desperate to have her do_ something_ to relieve the pressure. Anything. He'd take anything – her hands, her mouth, her cunt – just fucking _anything_. "Taylor," he groaned, lifting his hips a little when he felt her hot breath on him.

"Do you want me, Ryan?" she breathed, watching him as he watched her mouth hover over him. He nodded, not caring if he looked pathetic and desperate. He _was_ desperate. "Say you want me."

"Fuck," he shifted his hips again. "I want you. You're so hot," he added, just in case it got him on her good side. She let out a giggle, wrinkling her nose up in that _way_ she had. Her head dipped down and she pressed a kiss to his hipbone, making him arch out and moan in disappointment. Her hand stayed firmly on his thigh for balance, not moving anywhere near him. "Taylor."

She giggled again, crawling up his body, planting her hands on either side of his head, hair hanging in a curtain around them. He could feel the heat of her and he knew if he just thrust his hips up... But for some reason – probably the look on her face – he couldn't do it. She lifted one hand and ran it down his jaw, searching his eyes for something – he wasn't sure what. She looked like she'd just realized something, recognition making her eyes widen.

"Taylor?" he choked out, throat as tight as the rest of his body.

"I could make you beg for it," she murmured, as if testing out the words. "I could make you beg…"

He had never begged a girl in his entire life. Never. Well, not for sex, at least. He'd begged his mom not to drink; he'd begged Marissa to listen to him about Oliver; he'd begged Theresa to let him help her. But he'd never had to beg for sex. He'd made girls do it for _him_ – hell, he'd made _Taylor_ beg him for it – but he'd never done it himself. And as much as he'd like to deny it… if she told him to do it, he'd beg her now. _Anything_, because he was so _fucking_ hard and she was so fucking hot and he _needed_ to be in her.

She bit her lip and he let out a groan as she lifted one hand off the bed and moved it slowly between their bodies; down, down, God, he wanted it so bad and his breath hitched in his throat. But she didn't touch him and his eyes flicked down to watch her slip a finger inside herself. "Oh, Ryan," she breathed. "I'm so wet…"

"_Fuck_."

She giggled, then grinned and sat up abruptly, swinging her leg over him and getting off the bed. He bit his lip to keep from letting out a pitiful whimper. He was Ryan Atwood. He didn't _do_ pitiful whimpers. That was Seth's job. Apparently she noticed, though, and let out a giggle as she bent to open the bedside drawer and search through it.

"Suitcase," he grunted, slinging an arm over his eyes to try and gain control. He could hear her moving, opening his suitcase and rooting around and his cock twitched in anticipation as he heard the familiar rattling of the condom box. And there was the box being opened and the familiar crinkle of the wrapper and the bed dipped as she got back on.

She unrolled the condom on him slowly, touching him as little as possible through the whole, torturous process. He breathed in through his nose – long, slow, deep – before exhaling. She settled over him again and he held his breath. Then he felt her fingers wrap around him and she stroked him – slowly, softly – for a few seconds before she impaled herself on him.

The move was so sudden that only the pain from where he bit his lip kept him from coming on the spot.

"Shit!" he hissed, entire body tensing as he tried to hold back his release.

"Shh…" she soothed, leaning forward to brush her lips against his neck, "I'm not done with you yet." She waited for his nod before placing her hands on his chest and starting to ride him. He wasn't sure how he was controlling himself, because he'd been so _fucking_ hard for a while now and she was so _fucking_ hot and he was dying to put his hands on her – grab her hips and fuck her senseless or just let them wander over her body. But she said no touching and he had a sick feeling that she'd actually stop fucking him if he disobeyed.

He closed his eyes so he couldn't see her and tried to block out the sounds of her – moaning his name, telling him how good this felt. Like he didn't fucking know that already.

It almost worked – cutting her out – except he couldn't quite manage to ignore the hot, tight, slick feeling around his dick; the way she worked him. He was so close to coming, but he needed to hold out, for her.

"Taylor," he grunted, swallowing hard to control himself. "You might wanna hurry."

She giggled breathlessly, pausing in her movements to lean forward and kiss him, hard, before starting her rhythm again. He let himself zone out, trying to distance himself from the feeling of her cunt, and it was working until she dug her nails into his chest. _That_ made his eyes open and he found her with her head thrown back as her hips ground into him erratically.

"Oh God, Ryan," she cried out, letting her head drop back down. Her arms trembled as she tried to keep herself upright, eyes closing as she moaned again. "Oh _Ryan_."

He couldn't help it. He _tried_ to stop the clenching in his stomach, the tightening of his balls, but he couldn't control it anymore. "Shit!" He arched up, slamming his hips into her as he came in a white hot release. "Fuck, fuck, fuck..." he heard himself chant as his orgams ripped through him, making all the muscles in his body tighten and shake.

When he came out of it, he was completely drained and she was slumped on his chest, shaking with laughter. He could still feel himself inside her, feel the light spasms that told him she'd followed him over the edge. Thank God. The last thing he needed was her thinking he was some jackass that didn't give a shit whether the girl got off or not.

"Ok," she giggled, kissing the sweat off his neck, "we have to do that more often."

He let out a laugh that was more a release of breath than a real laugh and lowered his hands to her waist. The game was over, so he assumed it was cool to touch her again.

"Sure," he shrugged, kissing the side of her head and breathing in vanilla. She always smelled like vanilla.

"Oh?" she lifted her head from his neck and quirked an eyebrow. "I thought you were planning on breaking up with me." He bit his lip and shrugged again.

"We can do _a lot_ in a month."

The grin that lit up her face made his heart jump wildly in his chest. She was never dull, that was for sure.

With a groan, she got up off him and he dutifully pulled the condom off and tossed it into the trash.

"You think everyone's asleep?" she asked, stretching her arms over her head. They usually waited until they were sure everyone was safe and in their rooms before she'd head back to hers.

"Seth and Summer are still out," he told her. Actually, he wasn't _sure_ if they were, but better safe than sorry, right? He shifted over and she sighed, laying back down next to him.

"I'll try not to fall asleep," she murmured, curling up on her side.

By the time he turned his head to answer, she was already out. He rolled his eyes and slid his arm around her, closing his eyes. He'd have to make sure and wake up early to get her out of here, but he didn't feel like worrying about that.

He didn't feel like worrying about waking up, or the fact that their vacation was over in another week, or that he'd have to go off to college in a little over a month, or that Seth wouldn't constantly be around, or that he wouldn't be getting laid regularly, or that Summer'd be on the other side of the country. Right now, he just felt like sleeping, because right now, he was relaxed and… comfortable. Right now, everything as ok.

All in all, Greece hadn't been so bad.

_

* * *

_

review

Oh, and btw, in case anyone feels like asking, yes, there will be a fourth (and final) part to this. When I get around to it.


	4. College

_Alright, the almighty poll has spoken, and about half of you voted for this. So here it is, part 4. The last part. And I mean it this time._

_Um… dedicated to… I don't know. Probably ORy, since she's the one who usually bugs me about this story the most._

_  
And I guess I should warn everyone again that this story is dirty, so read at your own risk. Although I guess I should apologize, cause it's definitely not as smut-tastic as the previous chapters. A little more plot..._

_Music: I'm not over you, can I get back under?_

* * *

All in all, college hadn't been so bad.

No, really. He'd expected to feel alone and abandoned, but he didn't. Sure, he missed his friends and the Cohens, but that's what college was about, right? Finding your own place in the world, meeting new people, having to learn and grow on your own?

Plus, Kirsten made sure to call him at least once a week, and he would tell her about school until Sandy took over and then he'd have to repeat himself. He didn't know why they just didn't put him on speakerphone, but he assumed it was because they wanted more time with him, which made him feel less annoyed about having to run through a story twice.

Seth visited a lot, because he was bored in Newport, waiting for the spring semester when he could _finally_ go be with Summer. Yeah, Ryan was sick to death at hearing Seth pine over her all the time. It's not like he didn't go visit her in Rhode Island, and she was coming home for Thanksgiving soon. She'd told him that in an email.

That had surprised him – Summer was actually very good at keeping up with people. She sent him regular emails and he found it easy to write back. Marissa wasn't as good at it, which ended up with about one email every three weeks or so. But he supposed her boat didn't get much internet access, so he took what he could. She sounded like she was having a wonderful time – alcohol and bad-boy free for nearly five months now. He was proud of her.

And then there was Taylor Townsend, whose emails – when they first started popping up – surprised him. Not because she was emailing him, but because they were… general. She went away to the Sorbonne and started sending everyone pictures and emails written in French. He knew she sent them out in mass quantities, because he saw Seth, Summer, Marissa, and her mother's email addresses CC'd.

But then an email came that had been _just_ for him; a letter – written in English this time – and one picture that had kept him and his hand having regular after-dinner dates for a long time.

The funny thing was, she wasn't being weird and wanting something _more_ from him. There was no hint in the email of '_I miss you'_ or anything. All she wrote was that she had been looking through her old photo albums, and run across the prom picture. And then decided to send one of her own – of her in that little black lingerie set he remembered from that night. Yeah, he had _that_ picture tucked away securely in the top drawer of his dresser.

She hadn't ever said anything else after that, and the only emails he got from her were the ones everyone else got. Except he _did_ notice that they'd gotten a little less frequent now, and for a week or two about a month ago, she'd stopped writing altogether. Then she'd started again, but never sent any pictures, just writing in French. He knew Summer had asked what was wrong, but he didn't think she got an answer.

Speaking of emails, he really should respond to Summer's latest rant about how all of Newport would be underwater soon.

* * *

A knock on the door interrupted him from his homework – which actually wasn't such a terrible thing, because philosophy bored the crap out of him. He got up to answer the door, wondering if maybe that guy from his Calculus class was going to take him up on his offer to explain what was going on. Instead, a breathless Taylor Townsend stalked past him, huffing loudly and throwing her purse down on his bed. Her luggage she propped up on the floor before whirling towards him – hair flying wildly.

"Taylor," he greeted, shutting the door and leaning against it. She looked great – well, it wasn't a red dress or a black lingerie set, but her jeans were tight and he definitely appreciated the view. His voice – calm and steady – seemed to make her freeze and he watched her relax a little, expression going from nervous and annoyed to happy.

"Ryan!" she smiled at him and stepped forward to hug him tightly. "It's great to see you." He hugged her back, happy that his body didn't turn traitor on him this time.

"It's great seeing you, too, but what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in France?" She sighed, the annoyance back on her face and she turned towards her purse, opening it and digging through it.

"I should be in France," she began, rooting through the giant thing, "but I'm not…"

"Obviously," he folded his arms and ran his eyes up her legs, taking in her amazing ass as she bent over slightly.

"Because…" she elongated the word until she pulled out a packet of papers triumphantly, "I need you to sign this." She held the packet to him and he reached forward, taking it. It was all in French.

"What is this?"

"Oh," she waved her hand at him, "just a silly little legal document. And I need a witness to sign it, to attest to my character…" He quirked an eyebrow at her, then frowned down at the thing.

"A legal document? What for?" Then he paused, looking up, "Taylor, what did you do?"

"It's nothing bad," she laughed a little, shrugging, "it's just for my divorce."

That made him freeze. Divorce? She was married? Since when? And why didn't he know about it? Surely if Summer had known, she would've told him, because even the new reformed Summer Roberts couldn't keep this bit of juicy gossip to herself.

"Your divorce," he repeated, just to be sure.

"I got married in France," she explained, looking a little ashamed of herself. "It's a long story, and I promise I'll tell you the whole thing one day, but what you need to know is I was alone and afraid, and he was nice to me, and he said he loved me and wanted to take care of me, and the next thing I know I'm half drunk at his parent's chapel in Burgundy and I'm saying 'I do'."

"Wow." Yeah, that was pretty much an understatement, but it was all he could really think of right now. Taylor Townsend was married to some French guy. He almost felt bad for jerking off to the memory of her.

Almost.

"Yeah. And now he won't give me a divorce, and I dropped out of the Sorbonne and came home to get away from him. Except he won't give me the _stupid_ divorce, which is why I need you to sign this." She looked at him hopefully, and he walked over to his desk, grabbing a pen.

"Can I know what I'm signing to?" he asked, pen hovering over the line marked with a precise x.

"Just that I haven't been to prison, no contact with livestock…" she trailed off when he didn't say anything. Then she sighed, shoulders dropping. "Fine, it says we had sex like, thirty times while I was married."

He couldn't help but grin, straightening up and folding his arms across his chest. "Why?" She pouted at him, looking hopelessly desperate.

"Because," she whined, dropping to sit on his bed, "the only way I can get a divorce by French law is if one of us were unfaithful. And I know _he_ hasn't been…" She looked up at him apologetically, which he'd learned by now to actually trust. He knew she wasn't sorry for coming up with the plan; she was just sorry he had to get involved. "And I figured," she continued, "since we already had sex a bunch of times, if they questioned you, you wouldn't need to lie. Not that the _lawyers_ would ask anything that personal, but Henri-Michel has boundary issues, so I'm pretty sure he would…"

"Taylor," he interrupted and she paused, giving him that hopeful look again. "Fine, I'll do it, but you owe me." He bent down and signed his name, handing her the papers when he was done. She gave him a dazzling smile, throwing her arms around him again and hugging him so tightly he couldn't breathe.

"Anything," she breathed when she let go, smile still stretching her mouth wide. He remembered what that mouth had done to him and his cock stirred a little in his pants. She gave him one last smile before disappearing out the door.

Ryan sighed, looking down at his right hand.

* * *

She breezed into his room the minute he opened the door and he sighed. "Taylor."

"Good morning, Ryan!" she grinned broadly at him, clasping her hands in front of her. "I know I already owe you, but I was wondering if you would do me one, last, _tiny_ favor…"

"Marry another Frenchman, and now you need me to sign a paper saying we had sex fifty times?" He dropped onto his bed, leaning back against the wall lazily. She giggled, face scrunching up into that dorkish expression he rarely got to see. Actually, that _anyone_ rarely got to see.

"Actually… I was wondering if I could maybe stay here." She gave him an innocent smile, biting her lip and clasping her hands together in a pleading gesture.

"Stay here?" He shifted a little, sitting up straighter.

"Well, mother was angry that I got married and she kicked me out. Summer's off at Brown and I can't keep living under Seth's bed…"

"Wait," he interrupted, pushing himself up totally straight. "You're living under Seth's bed?" She nodded.

How did he not know about this? It seemed like the kind of thing Seth would mention. You know, '_yeah, work's going good, I'm good, Sandy and Kirsten are good, oh and Taylor Townsend's been living under my bed since her mom kicked her out for marrying some French guy...'_

"And it's not that I don't appreciate it, but Seth moves a lot in his sleep, and it gets kind of annoying." She sighed, beginning to pace. "Actually, I've been sneaking down to the pool house to sleep for the past week or so, after Sandy and Kirsten go to bed."

"Why don't you just tell the Cohens? I'm sure they'd be perfectly happy to let you stay in the guest bedroom, or, since you've apparently made yourself comfortable, the pool house." He watched her pace, watched her chew on her thumbnail as her expression became a little less happy.

"I don't want anyone else to know, Ryan. It's so embarrassing! Only you know the real reason. I told Seth my mother just kicked me out because she's a horrible person. And I mentioned to Summer that I was married, but she doesn't know all of it, and _Ryan_," she whimpered, "it's just for a little. Just until I… get a job? And then I can save up enough to get my own place, but I need somewhere to stay, and Seth'll be going to Rhode Island in a few months, plus, I don't think Summer would be too happy with me living under his bed…"

"Taylor." She stopped pacing, startled, and looked at him.

"Sorry," she sighed and he laughed.

"Look, I'd like to help you, but you can't stay here. I have a roommate, remember? Plus, I think the school would frown upon a third roommate that doesn't pay for room and board."

"Right," she frowned and maybe it was because he had this whole hero-complex thing, or maybe it was because college life had gotten pretty dull – after three years of constant drama, the lack of it was oddly unnerving – but he decided to just say fuck it.

"Look, you can stay here for tonight – _maybe_ the weekend, if Ed's ok with it."

Ed was – like the rest of his college experience – boring. He'd expected, with his luck, to get a roommate like Seth – a constantly talking bowl of sarcasm. Although, now that he thought about it, the Atwood luck _did_ strike, because a Seth-like roommate would've been familiar and comfortable. Ed was boring and it put Ryan on edge. He _liked_ people that talked, because _he_ didn't. He was good at listening, so having a roommate that didn't say anything made for a lot of uncomfortable silences.

"Thank you!" she squealed, clapping her hands and jumping up and down in excitement. Well, at least the uncomfortable silence thing would be gone for a couple days. And maybe, if Ed went home for the weekend, maybe he could get Taylor to show him what kind of lingerie she was wearing now.

"So remember how I said you owed me for signing that thing?" She nodded, "and now you owe me for letting you stay here."

"Right," she looked serious, "and I said anything. Oh! I learned how to bake in Paris-"

"Taylor…"

"-well, maybe not so much _bake_, but I can make a mean torte-"

"Taylor." His voice rose enough to stop her ramble and she looked startled. He was starting to notice that she went into her own world when she talked. Anyway, that was beside the point. "I don't want you to bake for me."

"Oh," she actually looked upset and he laughed. "I guess I could try and _cook_, but that was kind of a wreck because I didn't cook the chicken all the way through and my instructor got food poisoning…"

"Taylor." He waited until she shut up and looked at him. "I was kinda hoping for a different kind of favor."

"Oh. Oh!" recognition sprang to her face and she grinned broadly before settling into a definite smirk. "What _exactly_ did you have in mind?" She took a step towards him, hips swaying – more than natural, but it definitely pulled his attention. "I know you always liked me on my knees…"

Ryan shifted on his bed, smiling, because he'd actually missed this. He'd really only hung out with Taylor Townsend for a couple months, but he'd become quite attached to her bluntness, her unrelenting enthusiasm. And now – because of the little prom incident and all that followed – he also saw the _other_ side of her. He got to see her for the sexpot she was.

Yeah, he was definitely liking this girl.

And as much as he'd _love_ to have Taylor's mouth on him again… "Actually, I kinda just want to fuck you." Ok, obviously she was rubbing off on him, because he didn't think he'd ever been that blunt, that blasé, about it before. Even back in Chino he'd been a little more subtle, because even girls in Chino tried to pretend like they had a little more chastity than that.

"Sure." She really was a piece of work, wasn't she? Especially because she was taking off her clothes, which was quite nice. And it was the same deal as it always was – she took off her clothes and folded them, setting them on the seat of his desk chair before turning to him.

"Hair down," he grunted, shifting again because his pants were getting a little tight. He watched her hands lift up to the clip holding her hair back before she suddenly paused.

"Wow," she smiled – actually, it was closer to a smirk – "Ryan Atwood knows what he wants." He just grinned.

"Yeah, it's something I've been trying out." She giggled and he shifted – yet again – as she took the clip out and her hair tumbled down over her shoulders. The bed dipped slightly as she got on, straddling his hips and running her hands down his chest.

"I like the new you," she murmured, looking thoughtful. Which wasn't _quite_ how he wanted her to look – he preferred something like incredibly turned on, or about to come. "You were always so quiet in high school. Even the summer."

"Well, I think Seth did enough talking for the both of us," he shrugged. And there was that laugh, where she scrunched up her face and snorted a little, which must really be infectious, because he started to grin too.

"And you're funny now?" Her face settled back into a serious expression and she looked thoughtful again. "I don't think I've ever seen you this… open. College has been good to you."

"It's cause I actually belong here. I never belonged in Newport. That wasn't my world, I was just lucky," he sighed, "I think for the first time in my life I feel like I belong."

"That must be nice."

It was amazing – well, maybe _amazing_ was the wrong word, more like _a little scary_ – how she seemed to deflate: she sunk back on her knees, shoulders hunching as she curled into herself. And that's when he remembered who he was dealing with. He used to think she was on top of the world, back in high school. Even when he got to know her better – even when he got to _know_ her better – he always thought she was perfectly happy with her plot in life. He thought she was unbreakable.

And even when she came back from Paris nearly a month ago, asking for his help, she hadn't batted an eyelash at her situation. It wasn't until now that he noticed how lonely she must be. Her mother kicked her out, her best friend was on the other side of the country, she didn't have a job, she didn't go to school. She spent her days hiding under Seth Cohen's bed and her nights in the pool house, most likely staring at the ceiling, trying to sleep, like _he_ used to do.

He sighed, placing his hands on her hips and lifting her gently off his lap. She opened her mouth in confusion, but he didn't let her speak. "We don't have to do this. We could just talk, if you want." The offer was sincere – a little disappointing that he wasn't getting laid, but sincere nonetheless. It's not like he wasn't used to sacrificing sex for talking – his past girlfriends had kept him quite trained in that department.

Not that Taylor was his girlfriend.

She was just barely his friend, but he decided, off the stunned look on her face, that he'd try harder to get to know her – in the two months they spent having sex, they'd rarely actually _talked_. But he wanted to get to know her now, because from what he'd seen so far, she wasn't too bad. Although maybe that was his dick talking.

"You… want to talk?" she folded her arms over her stomach, looking confused and slightly hurt. She got off the bed and grabbed one of his t-shirts that was hanging off a chair, pulling it over her head. "Why?"

He shifted _again_, because, despite his resignation on the not getting laid topic, he was still hard and she looked so hot in his shirt. "Because. You just got a divorce, your mom kicked you out. You're probably really vulnerable right now-" Her loud sigh interrupted him, and he looked up to see her glaring at him.

"I forgot about your little hero complex," she grumbled. "Ryan, I'm not vulnerable. And even if I was, I'm not stupid, or naïve. I'm also really, _really_, horny, and you're _really_ hot. Do you see where I'm going with this?"

"Yeah, I get it but…"

"Right," she dropped her head and turned to her pile of clothes and he felt himself sigh.

You know what, screw chivalry.

Why did he need to be chivalrous anyway? She wasn't married anymore, they'd already had sex.

A lot.

Ok, so it'd been four months since she left for Paris, and he'd only seen her one other time since she got back – that time he'd signed the papers for her – but she seemed perfectly willing and he was _definitely_ willing.

He stood up and moved over to her, grabbing her hips and spinning her around. He leaned forward and kissed her, letting his hand cup her cheek. She seemed surprised by the move because her own hand came up to grab his wrist – like she couldn't believe he was being so gentle. To be fair, though, he was rarely gentle with her. But there was a nagging guilt in the back of his head, whether for taking advantage of her or making her all depressed, he didn't know.

"Ryan?" She looked confused when he pulled away and he shrugged, stepping back slightly and pulling his shirt off. Her eyes drifted down as his hands pulled at his belt and she stepped into him, her hands joining his and he let her take over the task of getting his pants open.

Watching her fumble with the button of his jeans gave him a thrill and he let his head tilt back and his eyes close as she pulled the zipper down and he was surprised how much he wanted this.

It wasn't like he hadn't been laid since her or anything – there was that girl from the coffee stand and the one from his English Comp class that he'd fucked a couple times.

She'd broken it off with him after the fourth time and he never figured out what had happened. All he knew was they'd been fucking and she came and then he came, and as he was coming down, she'd shoved him off roughly, called him an ass, got dressed, and left the room. That Monday, in class, he'd asked her what the hell he'd done, and she'd given him this _look_, like she couldn't believe he didn't know.

She was acting like that one girl, back in Chino, when he'd called her by the wrong name during.

It didn't matter now, because Taylor had gotten his pants open and pushed them down to the floor. She moaned lightly and gave him a smoldering look before wrapping her hand around the base of his cock and pumping him a few times. He licked his lips, but whatever he'd been about to say died in his throat as she gave him a gentle squeeze, eyes flicking up to him.

He grunted and gripped the back of her head as he crushed his lips to hers. Apparently he was over his guilt, because he grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it up, breaking from her mouth for a second as it went over her head. He tossed it to the side – ignoring her protest because he was making a mess – and kissed her again.

She moaned into his mouth as he backed her up to the desk, making his laptop rattle and the pencil holder rock as he pushed her to sit on the edge. She wrapped her legs around his waist and leaned back on her arms as he dragged his lips down her neck.

His hand reached out blindly until his fingers brushed the leather of his wallet that he'd thrown next to his computer after he got back from class. Thank God, too, because he didn't feel like letting go of her to go all the way over to his dresser. The condom was still in there and he pulled it out and backed away from her slightly. She looked disappointed, but she didn't complain, because she was as practical as he was.

So she waited patiently as he tore open the packet and rolled the condom on, eyes staring at her lips the entire time. God, she had such a dirty mouth.

"Thinking about something?" she giggled and his eyes moved back up to hers. He gave her a lopsided smile and shrugged.

"I like your mouth."

She grinned back at him and tossed her hair over her shoulder. "I like yours too." Then her eyes drifted down. "Among other things."

"Among other things," he repeated as he moved forward and slid into her.

He liked her other things, too.

"Yay," she whispered with a smile and bit her lip, letting her head tilt back. He stayed still until she started to shift impatiently. "_Ryan_," she whined, rolling her hips in that _way_ she had. He let out a low, rumbling laugh and pulled out of her completely. Her head snapped up and she glared at him. "Not what I meant," she scolded.

He just gave her a smile and rested his hand on her hip as he pushed back in. He repeated the process a few more times, pulling out completely before thrusting back in, each time doing it harder until he had her gasping his name.

"Shit, Ryan," she moaned, eyes locking on his as he pulled out. She shifted a little, spreading her hands out a little behind her. She moaned again when he pulled her left leg from his waist to rest on his shoulder before thrusting back in, and this time even he gasped at the friction. "Oh God," she whispered, shaking her head slowly back and forth, "I think you're trying to kill me."

"Not kill you," he rasped, turning his head to press a kiss to her calf. "Definitely don't wanna do that." She whimpered as he started to fuck her again – really fuck her, this time. There was no way he was pulling out anymore – he didn't think it was even physically possible. "If you're dead, I can't fuck you anymore."

She giggled brokenly and her throat convulsed as she swallowed hard. "Not unless you have some serious issues," she mumbled, apparently oblivious to what she was saying. He shook his head – leave it to Taylor Townsend to make that joke during sex. That was such a Seth joke and – _no_. This, right here, with Taylor – _in_ Taylor – was a sacred place and he was _not_ going to think about Seth.

"Don't make jokes," he told her, shutting his eyes tightly to wipe out the idea of Seth.

"Remind you of Seth?" she giggled again and he groaned.

"How the fuck do you do that?" He opened his eyes again and the sight of her naked with her eyes dark and dilated did a much better job of banishing Seth from his mind.

"I'm psychic," she lied. Then she dropped back to her elbows and he noticed for the first time that her arms were shaking.

"Hold on," he murmured, leaning forward – they both let out little moans at the change of angle – and pushing some of his papers and the laptop out of the way. "Ok, you can lay down now." She sighed gratefully and lay back all the way.

He rested one hand on her hip, the other smoothing up and down her leg as he pumped into her, trying to concentrate on the way she felt, the way she looked, the way she sounded.

She was exactly like he remembered – exactly like she was in his dreams – and he couldn't believe it'd been nearly four months since they last did this. He couldn't believe she'd been _married_ since then. The hand on her leg tightened a little and his other moved from her waist to where they were joined.

"Mon dieu!" she cried out, back arching as he pressed his thumb against her clit and rubbed slowly. "Oh Jesus Christ, Ryan," she panted, hands moving over the desk to try and find something to grab on to as she came.

He shut his eyes and turned to rest his forehead against her calf, reveling in the feel of her. He wanted to say something but he didn't trust his voice, so he focused instead on memorizing everything about her. Just in case they didn't get to do this again and he was just left with his fantasies again.

"Ryan?" Her voice brought him back and he opened his eyes and looked at her. "Did you want to keep going?" What? He noticed then that he'd stilled his hips as she rode out her orgasm. "Or did you want me to finish you off?" She sat up, lowered her leg from his shoulder, and pushed him back slightly. Cold air hit him and he hissed in pain when he slid out of her.

"Shit Taylor," he protested, even as she slid off the desk to her knees. Her hands were warm, though, as she pulled off the condom and stroked him and her mouth was hot when she sucked him in. It didn't take long for her hot little mouth to send him over the edge and his hands tangled in her hair as he came. Her throat convulsed around him as she swallowed and he tried to remember how to breathe.

She stood finally, knees almost giving out but he caught her and sat her down on the edge of the desk again. Then he moved forward and wrapped his arms around her waist and bent his head to kiss the spot right below her ear.

"Shit," he mumbled into her neck. She made a little noise of agreement.

"Much better," she murmured back, her hands sliding up his back, resting on his shoulder blades.

"What?" he groaned, pulling back a little to see his face. She giggled and grinned at him.

"Henri-Michel was dull," she explained, stretching her arms above her head. "I mean, he wasn't _bad_, but you're much better."

"Thanks, I guess," he muttered, backing away and feeling his shoulders tighten a little. Which was strange – he should be totally relaxed after an orgasm like that. He wondered if he should return the compliment – tell her that the Berkeley girls had _nothing_ on her – or if it would just sound fake. Like he was only saying it because she did.

"I'm really glad I left," she went on, like she hadn't heard him. When he looked over at her, she was staring up at the ceiling intently, head tilted back, brows furrowed in concentration. "I hated it there." Again, he wondered if she even realized she was talking. He'd forgotten that particular quirk of hers. It was kind of adorable, actually.

"So what're you gonna do now?" he asked. She shrugged, the light in her eyes dimming a little.

"Get a job? I can't keep crashing here or at Seth's…"

"You're not going back to school?"

She shrugged again, getting off the desk. "Where would I go? Back to the Sorbonne? Go stalk Seth and Summer in Rhode Island?"

"You could go here," he suggested, turning away from her to pick up his boxers. "I mean, if you want to."

"You're ok with that?" she pulled his t-shirt over her head again and tilted her head a bit. He licked his lips and took a deep breath.

He just wanted the tightness in his shoulders to go away.

"Yeah, it'd be ok. If you do stay, maybe we could hang out or something? Like we used to?"

"Oh. Yeah, of course." He flicked his eyes over to catch her attempt at a smile. He sighed.

"Not like that," he protested, but it didn't come out like he wanted. "I mean, yeah, like that, but not _just_ that… I'm explaining this wrong."

"You want to have sex but you don't?"

He sighed again and lifted his hand to run it through his hair. "I mean, we should do what we were doing before, but just… like, tell people."

"Like date?" The word made him flinch, but he nodded. "Wow." She sat down on his bed and looked thoughtful.

"I mean, if you want to." He felt his heart speed up a bit when she stayed silent, the tightness in his shoulders making his head start to ache.

"It's about time."

"What?"

She sighed, looking down at the floor. "I've been waiting for you to ask me out for… like, forever."

"What?"

He heard her snort in amusement as she picked at the hem of the shirt she was wearing, but she didn't look at him. "Well," she started slowly, "I've kind of had this… _thing_ for you for a while."

"How long?"

Well _that_ he hadn't been expecting. She'd never shown any interest… ok, so they'd had sex a lot, but other than that, she'd never given him any reason to think she wanted something _more_. She'd sure as hell never said anything.

"Um… since I got over my weird little Seth crush?"

"What?" That had been almost a year ago. She'd had a _thing_ for him for a fucking _year_?

She huffed in annoyance and looked up at him. "See, this is why I didn't say anything before. I knew you'd freak out."

"I'm not freaking out," he protested, bringing his hand to the back of his neck and trying to work out the tension.

"Yes, you are."

"So, at prom…"

"Prom wasn't _planned_, if that's what you're thinking," she reached out and pulled him to the bed, sitting him down. Then she got to her knees on the mattress and moved behind him. Her hands pushed his away and she started to work the muscles in his shoulders. "It just happened. But yeah, I liked you."

"And the second time…"

"Well, that was kind of planned. I didn't say anything after prom, cause I didn't want you to freak out. But when you showed you were still interested…"

"Shit," he muttered, dropping his head forward and closing his eyes. "You let me fuck you for three months and you never said anything? Why?"

"Cause," he _felt_ her shrug and her voice dropped an octave. "Sleeping with you in secret was better than just being 'friends'."

He didn't say anything, because he wasn't sure _what_ to say. He wished she'd said something, cause now he felt like an idiot.

He also felt like an ass.

He leaned forward, breaking away from her hands, before turning around. She looked confused for a second, until he slid his arms around her waist and pulled her into him. "I'm sorry," he murmured into her hair. She shrugged again, a little dejectedly and he felt his gut twist when he remembered how used to rejection she was. Shit. "I'll make it up to you," he kissed her head, then her neck, her jaw, moving up to her lips.

"You don't have to…"

"No," he mumbled against her lips, "but I want to." He leaned forward, pressing her into the mattress. "Cause 'making it up to you' sounds _really_ fun…" his hand slid up her leg, coming to rest on her hip.

"You don't have to do anything," she protested again.

He ignored her, because he really was too busy thinking – and running his hand over her hip. How could he not have seen it? The fake enthusiasm every time she agreed it was cool that they didn't tell everyone. And her uncanny ability to read him? She wasn't psychic, she just fucking paid attention to him.

She'd been the perfect girlfriend and he hadn't seen it.

He kissed her, trying to apologize for being such an idiot. He knew he was. _She_ knew he was – although she apparently wouldn't admit it.

Oh God, everyone was going to tell him he was an idiot when they found out.

Summer would _kill_ him for treating Taylor like that. Marissa would roll her eyes, Seth would… _fuck_, Seth would have a field day with this.

"Can we tell everyone but Seth?" he asked, breaking away from her. It took her a moment to realize what he was talking about, but she started to giggle when she did.

"I think he'll find out, somehow," she reminded him.

"You may want to lay low for a while," he mused. "Once everyone finds out, they're gonna be all over you. Sandy and Kirsten'll want to invite us for dinner, Seth'll be demanding details, Summer'll be pissed we didn't tell her earlier…"

She shrugged. "I think I can handle it…"

"But I don't know if I can," he explained, leaning down to kiss her neck. "Cause they'll want to talk to you all the time, and I think we can come up with a better use of your time…"

She let out a breathless _oh_, and he couldn't help but grin at how happy she sounded.

"Now," he continued, "let's get back to the issue of me repaying you…"

She giggled as he moved down her body and for the first time since she'd shown up again, he felt completely at ease. Maybe having Taylor Townsend as a girlfriend wouldn't be as world-shaking as he thought it'd be. Maybe everything would be ok. He looked up at her and found her biting her lip, watching him, and he smiled.

All in all, college hadn't been so bad.

_

* * *

_

review


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